


Feast on scraps

by murasaki_gyps



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Established Relationship, Family Fluff, Friendship, Future Fic, Gen, Headcanon, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), Past Relationship(s), Pre-Series, Slice of Life, Teen Romance, Underage Kissing, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-10-26 08:51:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10783515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murasaki_gyps/pseuds/murasaki_gyps
Summary: "Georgij can't expect Viktor to understand his suffering. He's different from him, sometimes he has even wondered if Viktor is as human as every other of his teammates. Viktor has married the ice many years ago and completely shut down the external world, he's almost self-sufficient and Georgij low-key envies him. If he had been so much dedicated to the rink, if he had given his entire mind, body and soul to the ice, maybe he could've overcome even the great Viktor Nikiforov. Maybe he would've accepted with more composure even what their weird relationship has entailed for such a long period of their life."Six moments in which Georgij's life was much more than angst and drama. Collection written forhTe Popoweek.#1: Sorry to myself (Georgij+Yurij)#2: Shape of you (Georgij/Michele)#3: With a little help from my friend (Georgij+Viktor)#4: Rebel, Rebel (Georgij/Viktor)#5: Nearly forgot my broken heart (Georgij+Mila)#6: Nature Boy (Georgij)





	1. #1: Going to cinema - Sorry to myself (Georgij/Yurij)

**Author's Note:**

> When I organized [hTe Popoweek](https://popoweek.tumblr.com) I knew I was going to write something for this event, but I apparently forgot how hard it was for me to actually write in English. So, I want to apologise in advance for every mistake you could find from here on out.  
> Back to the story, the first chapter of this collection is set immediately after Yurij came back from Japan - and since the Gran Prix was held in Barcelona during 2015, I've always supposed the series is set during this year.  
> I really liked the idea of Georgij considering himself a kind of "big brother" for Yurij and a really cute fanart - I haven't found again yet - gave me the idea of the two of them going to cinema together.  
> Hope you'll enjoy it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He didn't like the idea of Yurij going to cinema alone - he knew too well how unpleasant was to do thing on your own because you didn't know how to properly make friends - and he offered to accompany him to watch "Dream Wars: The Rise of the Boogeyman".  
> Yurij accepted on a whim but now he's starting to regret his decision, nervously glancing at his teammate and trying to figure out when he will embarrass both of them with one of his dramatic outbursts."  
>  _[Missing Moment, Light Angst, Friendship]_

_April 2015_

He likes that kind of movies.

He has always liked that specific kind of movies that other people usually deem as "too boring" or "too complicated" for their taste. They're all obviously wrong but he can't condemn them: it's not that easy to really appreciate art films. You have to be a truly connoisseur to understand the magic of certain, rarely told stories, to appreciate them in every single aspect. For example, not anyone can understand the sociological implications of a psychological horror about a girl whose only dream is to become a model but ends up being eaten by her more mature colleagues - an obvious reference to how contemporary society puts too much emphasis on female appearance and force women to metaphorically cannibalise each other in order to socially survive but - alas! - everyone ignored this message.

Today, however, isn't the right day for some intricate story full of horror and disgrace. Today he searches for relief from his daily responsibilities. The last weeks have been simply awful - Georgij Popovich knows at least four different synonyms of the adjective "awful" more suitable for describing how much he's suffering. It's a moment of his life he only wants to pack up and put away, before it starts to ache too much - like a wound left untreated until it burns and becomes too nasty even to look at. Being dumped is already painful - and he is a specialist in this field; being dumped by The Person™ you've been with for two years straight - the person you've loved so much you even framed their picture in a pendant and believed they can be the mother of your future children - well, it's even worse.

Well, no...

"Worse" is not the right word. It hurts. The pain is so deep, he fears a part of his being doesn't even know _how to feel things_ anymore. He feels only numb, as if his heart was ripped out of his chest, only to leave behind a void nothing can fill anymore.

He misses Anya. He can't help but missing her in every little thing he does during the day: she was so ingrained in his routine that her sudden absence is worse than a void. It's a black hole that devours everything: hopes, dreams, will to live. He can only skate, until his muscles ache more than his sorry excuse for a heart and the physical pain is enough to fall asleep the exact moment his head hits the pillow.

He can only skate and fill every free moment of his week with art, feed his soul with stories and hope to forget about his sorrows for more than a minute.

It all comes back to cinema.

A movie can be the perfect remedy for his current problems: he locks himself up in a dark hall full of strangers, he buries himself in the story and tries to enjoy a good plot and a decent acting, letting the music fill every nook and cranny of his now empty soul.

If Vitya was there, he would probably take him out for a brilliant French comedy - they have this kind of rites. He's not the most present of his friends but every time his heart was broken, Viktor appeared out of nowhere, dragging him out of bed and convincing him to laugh off the dreadful sensation of being left alone and heartbroken again.

But this time Vitya is away - in another continent, even - and coping with the aftermath of his breakup with Anya is harder than the other times. So, no French comedies, no parties, no time to laugh. It's time to suffer even more - it's _cathartic_ \- watching a romantic drama with, hopefully, a very sad ending. What's new, this time, is his presence.

"I didn't know you was into YA fantasy movies... You like "The Lord of the Rings" and I thought _people of your age_ prefer... uh... more traditional??? stories? Or whatever you call those boring things written by people dead, at least, thirty years ago or the like...".

Georgij takes a glance at his younger teammate, at the disgraceful way in which he's sitting in his seat - spread-eagled and with a big bowl of fluffy popcorn on his lap - and smiles weakly. He could explain - _again_ \- why the old generation of writers is incomparably better than the current one but he knows Yurij Pliseckij is still too young to understand the meaning of his words - even if, when he was his age, Georgij already preferred to re-read "The Silmarillion", instead of engaging in a conversation with his peers about the latest Harry Potter's movie.

"Yes, but the love story seems rather intriguing! I mean, the books caused quite a sensation, when they were released! I'm really curious to know how they have been adapted!" Georgij explains, resisting the temptation of engaging in a deep conversation about how "the book is always better than the movie, however".

"Ah. Oh, God, so you're here for the _romance_. Well, whatever, but... Gosha, please, don't start to cry in the middle of the movie. Not... Don't be too loud, at least...".

Yurij tries to adjust his tone in his last sentence but he can't help but roll his eyes so much, he can almost see his brain and all the frustration buzzing around inside his skull.

"I promise I'll be very quiet, Yura, don't worry".

The fact that his older teammate doesn't even attempt to refute his claims doesn't reassure Yurij but then Georgij adds in a whisper, "And, well, thank you for keeping me company".

He looks at his quite moved expression and the way he still seems utterly devastated by the weight of his unintelligible - at least for Yurij - sorrows bewilders him. A lot.

"Uh, don't thank me. I was the one who needed company... To watch this movie, so, I dunno... it should be me who must thank you... I think?!".

Georgij smiles, more widely than the last time, making one of his dramatic, dismissive gestures, and Yurij shrugs, focusing again on his popcorn and hoping the trailers before the movie will end soon.

It's hard to be angry at Georgij Popovich, basically because his attitude is more than simply disarming. Yurij doesn't even know if considering him a teammate, a rival or some sort of over-dramatic big bro. Georgij, on the other hand, has started considering him some kind of protege: he saw him skating, he noted his attitude during his training sessions. He knows where his insatiable desire of winning and overcoming Vitya comes from... and he understands it perfectly.

Yet, the circumstances of their trip to cinema were completely fortuitous. Mila was busy and that was their first afternoon off in weeks. Even the two of them started feeling very tired at the idea of training. Yurij, though, doesn't have many friends - no, he doesn't have anyone to call "a friend" - to hang out with and Georgij was there, when Mila had to cancel their meeting.

He didn't like the idea of Yurij going to cinema alone - he knew too well how unpleasant was to do thing on your own because you didn't know how to properly make friends - and he offered to accompany him to watch "Dream Wars: The Rise of the Boogeyman".

Yurij accepted on a whim but now he's starting to regret his decision, nervously glancing at his teammate and trying to figure out when he will embarrass both of them with one of his dramatic outbursts.

Then the lights go out, a pretentious soundtrack starts playing and Yurij finds himself too involved in the first fistfight to care about anything else. Georgij doesn't seem as thrilled as him, at least during the first ten minutes. Spectacular fights in CGI aren't exactly his cup of tea and he could have something to say about the acting, the lines the characters exchange and the editing but then it happens.

Nora, the female protagonist, meets Emul, the conventionally attractive male counterpart from another dimension who, by a strange stroke of luck, has human features and some glittery make-up to look more "exotic". But Georgij doesn't mind that all of that: his whole attention focuses on the romance or, at least, the initial, apparent lack of it. The first tears, silent and hot, start pouring out without him even notice them. Only when the two leads start bonding, he realises - together with them - they're destined to meet only in their dreams, where they have those gaudy fights that stirs up Yurij but bore him to death.

He ignores the clichés, the bad acting, the obvious way in which Nora and Emul slowly but inexorably fall in love - like it's a mandatory test they have to undergo if they want to move the plot forward. He focuses on the sadness, instead. His attention slides over the discrepancies and concentrates only on the sense of helplessness of the two protagonists, who find out their feelings are reciprocated but they can't be together outside the realm of dreams. It's the way the harsh reality and those insufferable battles keep on buggering their love story that really pull at his heartstrings.

He knows those feelings. He knows them so well, his mind quickly starts to weave a new story of its own over the predictable plot twists of the actual movie. He feels the same helplessness of Nora and Emul, the same, frustrating awareness he can do nothing to change his situation and he cries. He doesn't even know anymore who's killing who and what are the issues at stake; he doesn't even care, he only knows the burden of bearing with Anya sudden absence is stuck in the acid, hot mess in the middle of his throat, a mess that only his tears can melt away, even if only partially.

He weeps in silence, not a single sob escape from his lips, only occasionally reaching into his pockets for a tissue. It takes forty-five minutes for Yurij to notice his teammate is silently crying over a cheap fantasy movie with a plot as thin as a promise. He has just finished his popcorn and the story has reached an impasse - Nora and Emul are talking about their feelings and he honestly finds the romance unnecessary and corny. He takes a glance to Georgij by a chance and sees him, a first clenched tight against his teeth and his eyes glistening with tears of regret.

Yurij doesn't honestly what to do or say - if there's even something right to say - then he notices the crinkled tissue trapped between Georgij's fingers. He doesn't talk, he simply taps the corner of his packet of tissues against his teammate's shoulder. Georgij flinches but then takes a confused glance at him, before recognising the shape of the object Yurij's lending to him. He accepts the offer with a nod and an attempted "thank y..." that Yurij brushes it off with another shrug: he still doesn't know what he should do, because this isn't like the other times. This time Georgij's sadness has a strange, tragic composure that bewilders him but, for some reasons unknown to Yurij, his offering seems to placate his older teammate a little.

He reached out to him, though, and that gesture is enough to make Georgij feel less alone: Yurij isn't the type of person willing to help others so easily and that's why Georgij feels somehow even blessed by his little act of kindness. He quickly focuses back on the screen but his sadness starts to settle down and even if his eyes are still watery, by the end of the movie he's not crying anymore. When the lights go on he's even ready to argue about the abrupt end of the movie, how Emul's kidnapping was only a plot device to lure back the audience for the next movie, but he still feels sad for Nora, poor Nora, who can't even reach (although temporarily) the Realm of Dreams anymore!

"Ugh... The last fight was pretty boring... I expected more blood and violence, too... The actors' moves were sloppy!".

Yurij regains his usual, rude composure as soon as they set foot outside the theatre. It's already dark, even if it's only six in the evening, the weather is biting and a vague scent of snow fills their nostrils, foreshadowing a possible snowfall in the next hours.

"Well, it wasn't only their moves that were sloppy... The male lead was... so pretentious... It was an emotionless performance, what a waste!".

Yurij smirks briefly - he really likes when he finds someone else who shares is desire to destroy poor artistic performances, especially the ones that are too well-paid but too full of flaws. Georgij's voice sounds hoarse and his deep blue eyes are still reddened, even if he seems ready to engage in a deep conversation with him about the eventual symbolisms in the characters' names and appearances.

Yurij doesn't understand it and he says it in a loud, impatient tone, "Yes, but there's something I don't understand. In the story, I mean".

"What?" Georgij asks him, putting his hands in his black coat's pockets, and his eyes light up at the thought of explaining whatever plot point Yurij hasn't yet grasped but he replies in a harsh voice, "Why bearing the pain of falling in love with someone you can't possibly stay with?".

Georgij winces, not so sure if his younger teammate is even talking about the movie anymore. Frustration innervates every single of his muscles, while Yurij spits out in a fit of rage, "Why do you have to go and ruin your life for... WHAT?! Sloppy makeouts? Hand-holding someone in public? Company? There're more important things in life".

Passers-by get past them, occasionally looking at Yurij's thin figure and the way he vocalises his resentment but Georgij isn't shaken by his complaints. He shakes his head calmly and whispers, "Being with another person is much more than this, Yura. It's the magic of share your life with another human being... The human being you love even more than your family... It's... having a new reason to wake up every morning, new projects to make _together_ with that person... and the air... when you're in love everything seems... everything is better, even breathing".

Georgij pauses for a moment, his eyes sparkling with sadness and joy mixed together, because he still recalls how better was his life when Anya was still at his side. He's aware of the way Yurij's looking at him, he knows he's judging him _very hard_ for being so naive for his age but he can't help it.

His expression softens a bit, when he concludes, "Love is much more than some... tender gestures. It fills every aspect of your life, it changes your perspective on things but... But I understand if you still don't comprehend, Yura, you're only fifteen and...".

"I'm _already_ fifteen, Gosha! And I understand! Everything!".

Yurij abruptly stops him, stomping his feet to highlight the meaning of his words, before he finally spits out what's bothering him the most.

"I understand that if love is something that makes you flush your career down the drain to... chase someone you saw _one fucking time_ at a party... or to twist your entire program to win back some bitch who couldn't care less about you...".

"Now, Anya isn't a bitch, Yura..." Georgij tries to stop him but Yurij violently shakes his head. His pale cheeks are reddened by the effort of talking quickly, before being stopped again by some adult, who feels entitled to lessen his reasoning, because he's "only fifteen".

"But she doesn't care about you! And Viktor... Viktor had everything! He won every fucking gold medal available... He's a damn legend, Gosha, and he threw everything out the window for...what? Coaching a fucking pork cutlet who can't even land a quad flip properly?!".

"For love, Yura. He gave up everything for love," Georgij replies in a husky tone.

His strangely calm attitude sharply contrasts with Yurij's words and the way he's still furiously inhaling and exhaling rage and air. Georgij's not mad at him, though: he recognises the anger and the helplessness, when Viktor's name sounds like a curse on Yurij's lips. He knows what it means, to not being acknowledged by the ones you respect the most.

And so, he quietly continues to explain, while passers-by look absent-mindedly to them, to Georgij's gloomy figure and to Yurij's aggressive posture, but none of them seems bothered by their superficial curiosity.

"And, if you think about it, maybe Vitya didn't really have _everything_ , if he chose to leave his old life behind and fly to another country to... coach a total stranger. Well, not for Vitya, since he has done so much to meet him".

Yurij doesn't seem satisfied with his answer but he doesn't expect Georgij to understand his point: love is the subject that can overcome even skating in his personal priority queue and that's a shame, in Yurij's opinion.

"That's why I said you're still too young, Yura. I didn't mean to offend you but, you know, when you'll be older, you could find out you desire the company of another person... Their love, their understanding, a special bond only between you and them... I'm not saying career and medals are not important, they're _fundamental_ ".

Georgij hesitates for a single moment and his eyes sparkle with the same light they have when he enters the rink and tries, for the umpteenth time in a row, to surpass Viktor's records. It's that passion that Yurij finds understandable, he prefers much more when his older teammate shows his competitive side, instead of spouting nonsense about "love".

"But they're not the only things that matter. There're other things, like family and friends and... love. Even if you could find out it's not so easy to win it back".

Georgij's mouth is a twisted line, filled with sadness and regrets, when he ends his sentence. Sometimes the idea of giving up - on Anya, on defeating Viktor, on keeping on skating - seems really tempting to him. It could be easier, it could be less painful than believing he can actually turn the tide and...

"You skate well, Gosha".

Yurij delivers that compliment like it's a formality but they both know it's not true at all. He means it and he doesn't know another effective way to convey his respect for a fellow skater, especially considering he doesn't have any friend at all.

Georgij, however, smiles and it's the first time in _weeks_ he sees his eyes - and not only his mouth - smile. His expression is sincere and sincerely flattered and Yurij feels somehow embarrassed, because he's always afraid of proving himself too soft and childish or, worse, cute. So, he quickly adds, "But you'll ruin everything, if you think too much about that b... That girl. Cut her off. You don't need that kind of motivation to try defeating Viktor... And me, obviously. He could've forget his duties but I'm still here and I'll win this Grand Prix, no matter what".

Georgij doesn't stop smiling, not even when Yurij shows his most intimidating face. He reminds him of Potya, Yurij's beloved cat, but he refrains to tell his younger teammate about this last detail and replies with his same stubbornness, "I can do both. I can win the Grand Prix and... Anya's heart".

Yurij snorts loudly and shakes his head: Georgij's apparently a lost cause to him.

"Whatever! I'm going home, so...".

"Oh, I'll go with you," Georgij offers in his most chivalrous tone.

"But we don't even go the same way, you'll waste a lot of time!" Yurij protests but his older teammate has already raised his hand to stop him.

"I won't waste any time, we still have an afternoon off, remember? And it's already dark, I prefer to escort you home".

"Because _I'm only fifteen_?".

Yurij's voice is filled again with his usual provocatory stance but Georgij doesn't take up the gauntlet and instead replies in a sympathetic whisper, "Because you're my friend and I care about you and I don't like the idea of you walking home alone".

Before his eyes, Yurij's defiant look changes dramatically into a bewildered expression. Than the young boy shrugs and hangs his head - conveniently hiding his face.

"Whatever! Do as you please, it's your problem not mine," he shouts but he's still relieved when Georgij comes up beside him and starts talking about the movie, as if their conversation never happened. He's relieved there's still someone - someone like Georgij and Mila - who's willing to hang with him and even ignore his frequent outbursts, instead of leaving him alone. He doesn't even know, sometimes, how he should consider Georgij - a rival, a closer teammate, some kind of over-dramatic big brother - but he's grateful he's there. Yeah, he makes him feel like he's "only fifteen" but in a way that seems more natural than humiliating, as if it were right and even desirable to still need help, even at his age, even after all the medals he won.

Georgij doesn't like YA movies very much: he finds them boring and full of clichés. He's, however, old enough to appreciate a good company even after an unsatisfying movie. Yurij's only fifteen, okay, but he's ambitious and determined: he likes his spirit and he likes the defiance with which he challenges his older and more experienced teammates. And somehow, he's even right: he has to cut it off... his sadness, at least. He's lucky enough to have good teammates - good _friends_ \- and that's certainly a very convincing reason to wake up every morning.

 


	2. #2: !Crossdressing - Shape of you (Georgij/Michele)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He has no problem with Georgij's passion for fancy dresses, flashy make-up and crossdressing. He has a problem with _his reactions_ to what he's looking at: his brain is furiously creating very detailed scenarios, every single one more risqué than the preceding ones and he would've never expected he could've had a thing for... his boyfriend dressed in women's clothing."  
>  _[Future Fic, UST, What… if?, Crossdressing]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This collection won't follow a chronological order and, probably, this oneshot is the one set in the most distant future among the seven of them. I love Michele and Georgij together _a lot_ and this chapter contains a lot of headcanons for a longfic about the two of them that, sadly, for now is only in my mind. Nevertheless, just a quick note : "tesoro" and "amore" are two Italians words that in English can be roughly translated as "darling" and "sweet" (although they literally mean "treasure" and "love"), while "oh, cazzo", well... it's a swear word like "oh, fuck"!  
>  And that's all, folks! As usual, I apologize in advance for my English. Have fun!

_February 2017_  

"We'll be late, Gosha!". 

Michele Crispino's words sound like a curse in the cold and vaguely damp air of Georgij's attic but his deep voice is muffled by the bathroom's closed door. Somewhere on the roof crows are cawing. 

"No, _tesoro_ , we won't! The party starts in twenty minutes and Mila and Sara aren't even here yet!". Georgij stops to look at his figure in the mirror and checks if his black dress is okay and, after straightening a pair of wrinkles with his palms, he feels quite satisfied with the final result. 

"Yes, but... Open that door, at least! Don't tell me you're afraid of being seen naked! By me!". 

He can feel Michele's impatience in his voice and in the sound he's making, tapping rhythmically his foot against the worn-out linoleum of his apartment. He even briefly entertains the thought of making him wait a little more - he finds something _lovely_ in Michele's almost overwhelming way of showing his love for him - and starts searching for his make-up in the bathroom vanity. 

"Yo? Are you serious? You know you're," Michele stops and clicks his tongue. Then he inhales through his teeth, "You know you're _gorgeous_ , so tell me what you're hiding!". To be frank, Michele's more curious than upset: Georgij has disappeared in the bathroom almost an hour ago and he finds all these mysteries quite absurd, since he only needed to wear a costume for a Carnival party. 

...no, Georgij called it " _Maslenica_ " - Michele keeps forgetting they have different traditions, probably because he spends so much time talking with him, he considers him like family by now. And, apparently, Viktor Nikiforov has the habit of throwing a costume party every year (at least when they have time in between the various competitions) to appropriately celebrate the event. Michele suspects he simply likes to put strange costumes on but, whatever, Georgij likes it even more. 

What still bewilders him is the request, made by his boyfriend, of what their couple costumes should have been. 

"Oh, you! Ok, open the door but I'm not done yet, I warn you!". Georgij smiles at his reflection in the mirror, when he hears that "gorgeous" that pulls all the right strings. He blushes, even. Oh, if Michele intends to flatter him so much, he cannot possibly leave him outside, not even for another second. 

Michele knows what kind of costume Georgij has chosen for himself. He even tried to picture him with those clothes on but his imagination doesn't match up at all with the scene that unfolds in front of his eyes, when he pulls the handle down and opens the door. The black fabric – he doesn't honestly know its type but it dimly shines under the yellow lights of the bathroom – fits like a second skin and emphasises his wide shoulders and the muscles of his torso so well, Michele wonders why his boyfriend doesn't wear those clothes every day. A quick glance at his dress remembers him why, while in a twinge of jealousy he notices how skin-tight is even the long, black skirt that brushes against his ankles. 

"That suit looks so good on you!". 

Georgij's deep voice pulls him out of his daydream and Michele focuses on his face, instead. His boyfriend is putting on the eyeliner and he gets distracted by his smooth moves, the way his hand draws a perfect, thick line on his eyelid, framing his already long eyelashes. Only after a moment he notices Georgij's looking away, gazing into the mirror and avoiding any eye contact with him. 

Michele recognizes almost instantly the discomfort in his posture, his tensed shoulders, his lips curled into a thin line: he's waiting for a response – _his response_ – and, even if he tries to hide it, he silently fears the final verdict could be very negative. They've known each other for more than a couple of years but they've been dating for barely three months and there're still a lot of things they have to find out about their partner. Living in two different countries doesn't help but they still talk a lot and Georgij has already explained him his passion for dressing up. He loves make-up and fancy dresses and, well, Michele should've figured out by himself, since the costumes his boyfriend usually chooses for his programs are quite flashy. 

However, he's not confused for the reasons Georgij can think about. 

“Well, _amore_ , you look even better than me, I can assure you,” he grunts but he can barely stop his hoarse voice from shaking. No, he didn't expect Georgij Popovich to look _so good_ dressed up as Morticia Addams. Yes, he still misses the wig – Michele catches a glimpse of it, placed over a plastic stool in the little but crowded bathroom of his boyfriend’s attic – but he still has an effect on him. 

Michele can’t look away, not even when Georgij smiles at him and he catches a spark of joy and relief in his big, blue eyes. He'd prefer to sink through the floor but his attention is captured by the gestures his boyfriend is now using to apply the lipstick. The light above the mirror allows him to see every, tiny detail and the lipstick is red, very red, bloody red, and he can't help but think about Georgij's tinted lips somewhere else on his body and he's not talking about his own mouth... 

"So, you... uh... like to wear women's clothes? For costume parties, I mean". 

Michele nervously clears his throat, trying not to look – _don't look, don't look, don't look_ – at the way the muscles of Georgij's arms flex under the sheer, dark fabric of the sleeves, and starts staring at his face, noticing the dedication he's putting in doing the smoky eye. 

He has no problem with Georgij's passion for fancy dresses, flashy make-up and crossdressing. He has a problem with _his reactions_ to what he's looking at: his brain is furiously creating very detailed scenarios, every single one more risqué than the preceding ones and he would've never expected he could've had a thing for... his boyfriend dressed in women's clothing. 

"Oh, yes! They're more... artistic. I mean, women's clothing is more varied in shape and colour, you can choose between a lot of new models every year, and the make-up... you can become a total different person, depending on what effect you use!". 

Georgij gets heated and starts waving the eyeshadow brush around. He's now back to his usual self, and Michele crosses his arms, suddenly very interested in knowing something more about his boyfriend's hobby. 

"Uh... so, you've already dressed up in women's clothes other times?". 

"Yes, Vitya's been throwing these parties for years, I told you... we even wore matching costumes a couple of times. I was the only one who agreed to dress up properly, instead of pretending I was doing it as a prank because I was too ashamed of wearing women's clothes... I just... don't understand". 

Georgij's ready to launch into a long tirade about how look should not be influenced by gender roles and so on but then he catches a glimpse of Michele's face and his expression is too filled with impatience and curiosity to let the chance of showing off a little slip by. 

"I remember that year Vitya convinced me to literally cosplay Panty and Stocking... I was Stocking, obv...". 

"What?! Where... did you take... did you take _actual photos_ of those costumes?!". 

Michele realises too late his reply has been too enthusiastic but Georgij's lips curl in a pleased smirk and he explains, "Sure! They're on my PC, there's a folder in the Image section... I named it '2010 _Maslenica_ _',_ " before pointing – is that black nail polish? – at something behind his back. 

Michele does a 180 turn and reaches for a very worn-out laptop – that is probably old enough to retire – and starts searching. He knows the password, obviously, because Georgij tells him _everything_ : sometimes this is a very embarrassing trait of his boyfriend's character but, at least, he has indirectly proved him he needs to loosen his grip. They can't be together 24/7, it's quite insane to demand to know everything his boyfriend is doing, while he can't look. 

Georgij stops for a moment and turns to look at Michele, looming over his laptop (he even switched to English, so that he wouldn't have any problem using it) while searching for the coveted photos. He wasn't joking, when he said the Gomez Addam's costume really suited him: the chalk-striped suit emphasizes his shoulder line and lilac really brings out his olive skin. Georgij sometimes wonders what deity he should thank for meeting someone like Michele and he wallows in those sappy thoughts so much, he almost forgets to finish his preparations. 

Michele… Michele could have a thing for Georgij in women's clothes. If he still had doubts about it, the moment he sneaks a peak at his boyfriend in striped stockings cancels all of them. He doesn't even take a second look to Viktor – though he's quite something in that white miniskirt – because his whole attention is focused on Georgij, his proud smile, his dramatic pose... his brain has probably stopped working correctly but it's not his fault. 

He wasn't prepared for all this. He wasn't prepared for his mind and his body reacting so enthusiastically to what those tight-fitting stockings can reveal of his boyfriend's tights and now he would die to ask him to wear them again... only for him. 

"Ok, I think I'm ready". 

Georgij's deep but thrilled tone awakens him again and Michele knows he shouldn't look back so quickly – his boyfriend really loves to be revered with so much intensity – but, again, he can't help it. Georgij basks in is silent admiration, while Michele's gaze sweeps him from head to toe, and stays still in a dramatic pose with a hand on his hip and the other one hanging in the air. 

"Well, well...". 

Yes, Michele has definitely a thing for Georgij dressed up as a woman and he can say there's nothing ridiculous about his boyfriend's figure – he wears that long, dark wig with such intensity, he leaves him breathless. 

"I... that... that neckline is too low... Jesus... I can see _everything_ ". 

Michele knows he's clearly exaggerating now but he can't help it. It doesn't really want Georgij to cover up, he only wishes to stop gazing at him, because he can sense his face getting red and hot and the fact his boyfriend looks expectantly in his direction doesn't help him cooling down. 

"But this is the right shape of the dress, Mishka!" Georgij jokingly complains, while his boyfriend moves closer and lightly takes his hands. 

"No, but... hmm... ok, it really, really suits, I didn't... think you could look so good in... _oh,_ _cazzo_ , I forgot how to talk". 

Michele inhales deeply and his boyfriend laughs – one of his husky, lowkey unsettling laughs that makes him shiver with pleasure – before slipping through his fingers and doing a twirl. 

"Oh, wait... wait a second, your dress is not... completely zipped up". 

Michele warns him, pointing briefly at his back, where something pops out of the wig's hair, and Georgij stops in the middle of his twirl. 

"Oh, yes, I had some trouble zipping it up, when I was in the bathroom," Georgij explains, trying to reach for the zip but Michele's hands get there first and gently push away his fingers. 

"I’ll do it... if you didn't lock yourself in and played mysterious, I could've helped you!”. 

His boyfriend’s touch is light and hesitant, when he takes off synthetic dark hair and finally squeezes the zipper between the thumb and index. He has to pull it down a little, before closing it, and that’s when he sees black lace flashing under the fabric. 

“What… whoa, what… _what are you wearing under your dress_?!”. 

Georgij sighs. This is not a simple breath, though; it’s one of those long, desperate sighs, he has to puff out his chest and then shrugs to highlight how much he’s suffering. 

“That’s why I was _playing mysterious_ ”, he exhales and – oh, no, he’s doing the air quotes with his fingers – casts a glance over his own shoulder. 

“I didn’t want to spoil that surprise”. 

Michele doesn’t have a thing. 

He has a very specific kink for his boyfriend’s in women’s clothes but he can’t be possibly wearing… 

“But it was something for the after-party, _tesoro_ ”. 

Yes, he can. 

Georgij weakly smiles and turns, laying his hands on Michele’s shoulders. He feels him shiver under his palms and he can find hungriness and impatience in his amethyst eyes. They're so close, he doesn't have to ask to know what he's thinking in this exact moment, and even if he'd die to lean forward and just kiss him, deeply and slowly, he whispers: "We should go or we're going to be late, have you forgotten?". 

Michele's touch is not light anymore, when his fingers dig into the fabric that covers his sides. It's possessive and full of expectations and now it's Georgij's turn to shiver and grab onto his shoulders, while his boyfriend whispers in the same, husky tone, "Yes, but... Mila and Sara aren't here yet and I'm... I wanna know more about this... surprise for the after-party". 

Georgij can be very fussy, when it comes to punctuality but Michele's hands tell a different story, while they feel his lower back and his sides to try to vaguely understand the shape of his underwear. He's not even sure he wants to wait until the end of the party and when Georgij presses his forehead against his, his fingers start to quickly search for the zipper. 

"I wasn't sure you liked this kind of things, I must confess". 

Georgij groans weakly: Michele's palms are warm and heavy, while they caress his back from top to bottom, and their mouths are so close, he can feel his breath against his skin but he can barely see his amethyst eyes, hidden under half-closed eyelids. 

"Neither I... Until this evening, at least". 

Then Michele sighs and curses under his breath, when Georgij presses against his hips; by now, he would only like his boyfriend to stop unintentionally torturing with his good manners and violently pin him to the wall. Then he could kiss him, unzip his pants and... 

The intercom buzzes suddenly, piercing the coddled atmosphere that surrounds them like a shell. Michele curses again, very loudly this time, but Georgij is the first to speak and his voice is still shaky. 

"It seems Mila and Sara are finally here". 

"Shit! We have to go". 

Michele's expression is full of regret and disappointment and Georgij can't help but find it really cute, so cute he strokes his cheeks, before he can step back, and kisses him for real. Michele flinches, surprised, and feels his mouth, the soft texture of his red lipstick and then his tongue. He replies with his same enthusiasm, his hands back on his shoulders, but then the intercom buzzes again and they find themselves breathing heavily against each other. 

"We really have to go, Mishka," Georgij whispers, badly conceiving how much it costs him to utter those words. 

"Okay… okay…" Michele groans and the separation hurts like pulling off a band-aid. He doesn't let go of Georgij's hand, though, following him while he retrieves his jacket and his purse, obviously. 

"We don't have to stay too much... We can leave early" Michele almost begs, as they both approach the door. 

"Oh, don't worry, _tesoro_. Remember, we have the whole night before us," Georgij smiles briefly at him and, yes, there's only one, precise meaning for that phrase. 

It will be enough for Michele to keep calm for a couple of hours, at least. He casts another glance to Georgij and the strange grace with which he opens his purse: he never imagined he had a thing for his boyfriend in women's clothes. He supposes, however, that being with Georgij Popovich means discovering this kind of unexpected surprises every now and then. 

And he honestly likes them. 

A lot. 


	3. #3: Giving relationship advice - With a little help from my friends (Georgij+Viktor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Georgij can't expect Viktor to understand his suffering. He's different from him, sometimes he has even wondered if Viktor is as human as every other of his teammates. Viktor has married the ice many years ago and completely shut down the external world, he's almost self-sufficient and Georgij low-key envies him. If he had been so much dedicated to the rink, if he had given his entire mind, body and soul to the ice, maybe he could've overcome even the great Viktor Nikiforov. Maybe he would've accepted with more composure even what their weird relationship has entailed for such a long period of their life.  
>  _[Missing Moment, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of past!Viktor/Christophe, past!Georgij/Vitkor, Friendship]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am with the third chapter, finally! I've always wanted to explore Viktor and Georgij's relationship in more detail and I really like the image of the two of them talking about their love problems and giving each other (terrible) love advice! This fic is set some time before the one featuring Gosha and Yura. A pair of quick notes: [Sever Bar](https://www.we-heart.com/2013/01/25/sever-bar-st-petersburg/)does exist but I don't think it's the type of pub Viktor would appreciate; [Black Damnation Beer](https://struise.com/bieren-beers/black-damnation-serie/) is real, too, and, oh, Gosha, you're so dramatic even when you choose your drink!  
> Last but not least, I wanna say a big, big **thank you** to [Cuilchan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuilchan/pseuds/Cuilchan), who betaed this chapter and, is2g, you're precious, thank you for your kind help, you saved me a lot of time! I'm happy you liked the reading, too! And that's all, folks, have fun!

_March 2015_

Viktor knows where to find him. Time passes but Georgij Popovich's habits are written in stone. Even after all this time he can guess where he's hiding by paying attention to his mood. Is he happy? He will treat them all to a nice drink at the Sky Bar, Viktor's favourite pub in Saint Petersburg. Is he sad? He can find him wandering aimlessly on the riverside, his melancholic gaze lost in contemplation of the deepest secrets of the Neva.

The blue neon of the Sever Bar sign hurts Viktor's eyes and he squints a couple of times, before setting foot inside. He doesn't like the place: the crude lights, the brutal aspect of the walls that still bear the signs of a previous fire, the too basic and somehow empty atmosphere; everything seems made to unsettle him.

That's probably why Georgij has chosen that pub. It is the perfect place to go licking his wounds when they hurt him at the point not even a common anaesthetic would do much. He needs to be surrounded by the same misery he deeply feels in his heart.

Viktor's eyes light up when he finally locates him, sitting alone at a table with slumped shoulders. He can't see what he's doing, he is giving his back to him, so he silently sneaks toward him and slides a hand on his shoulder, murmuring in a husky tone, "For the price of that drink you could have had me for the night".

Georgij violently jumps and casts an eerie glance at him, before finally recognising the owner of the seductive voice that surprised and made him shiver a bit. Just a tiny bit.

"Christ, Vitya! You can't go and startle people like this! I almost died!" he complains, turning white and then red in the space of a few seconds, but Viktor Nikiforov smiles and shushes him with a light waving of his hand.

"And this beer is quite expensive, I have no intention of spending all this money, again, _for you_ " Georgij insists but, at this point, he's already resigning himself to move a little, so that Viktor can slide beside him. He's surrounded by his usual aura of unkempt elegance and he's simply gorgeous in his blue coat; they can be rivals but Georgij has never had a doubt there is something aesthetically alluring in Viktor, a certain something that on the ice shines with the intensity of a supernova.

"Rude! And I even came all this way to find you!" Viktor jokes, while he scans the room with a critical eye. It's really too crude for him and those white tables with their graceless lines deeply offend his aesthetic sense. Then he focuses back on his teammate and... well...

"You're a total wreck, Gosha!" he bluntly notices, earning a loud puff from the object of his critical examination. It's not his fault, though: everything on Georgij seems out of place, his beige coat is suddenly too big for his slumped shoulders and his eyes are dry, yes, but filled with a melancholy that makes his dark circles standing out even more.

"Why are you here all alone? On a Saturday evening, no less!".

Georgij doesn't answer immediately. He looks sideways at his more successful teammate and wonders why he's there. His relationship with Viktor has always been weird, not to say complicated, and he's this odd figure that keeps disappearing and reappearing in his life when he least expects it.

"I could ask you the same thing..." he finally murmurs, keeping his voice down. His fingertips are wet, still pressed against the cooling surface of his glass of beer, and he ogles the dark brown liquid as if it can answer to his unvoiced question, revealing him the final motives that got Viktor Nikiforov to go find him, the always-second-in-line one of Yakov squad.

"Mmh, I don't think I could appreciate the company of other people, this evening...".

Viktor's voice falters imperceptibly and if Georgij were more focused, he could recognise that something's wrong with his life-long rival. Instead, he takes a sip of his bitter, dark brown Black Damnation beer and hums softly: there was a time when he would have given _everything_ to make Viktor Nikiforov notice him - even going as far as actually _looking for him_ \- but this isn't that time. This is the time he's so distracted by his own sadness, it feels like he's isolated from the world by a thick, soundproof wall that doesn't let anything through, nor light, nor smells, nor colours, nor voices - not even Viktor's one.

"Well, me too. That's why I came here".

Those words scrape his throat like sandpaper and not even another sip of his beer can help him swallow that acid lump of regret that makes it difficult for him to even breathe normally.

Then he feels it, the subtle touch of Viktor's shoulder against his and an unspeakable nostalgia creeps under his skin, mixing together with another kind of ache, louder, stronger, more recent and more scorching.

" _Anya_...".

"Oh, perfect, then we can be alone together!".

His sudden reticence doesn't discourage Viktor and his voice chirps loudly in the quiet atmosphere of the bar, sparkling even behind Georgij's eyes like the crackle of a bonfire. It's impossible to be really down when Viktor is nearby, not even if your name is Georgij Popovich and living in the darkness of your own demons has somehow become your favourite lifestyle.

Then Viktor raises a hand, drawing the attention of the closer waiter, and quickly gestures to have " _the same thing my friend has ordered_ ". Georgij can't help but observe their interaction, the way the waiter suddenly smiles at his teammate, the way his teammate doesn't have to do much more than being himself, curling his heart-shaped mouth in a little smile - he knows all too well the power of his rosy lips - and winking, and everyone is ready to fall for him, even if only for a single instant.

He'd like to know how he can do that, how Viktor Nikiforov can win the heart of every single person he looks at and make it seems even easy. He'd like to know how it feels to be him, to be always the winner and never even understand the meaning of the word "defeat". He's not so interested in being a playboy but he'd like to use that kind of talent of his in this right moment to actually win something... _someone_ back.

"But, seriously, why are you here? I thought your latest girlfriend... uh, Katja...".

Viktor's at it again. Forgetting names, not paying attention to his surroundings, accidentally breaking his heart again with the most innocent of the mispellings... Georgij sighs and, "Anya," he corrects him. " _Anya_ " he says and every letter of that name hurts on his tongue like a too hot coffee; it hurts in his chest like a myriad of needles stuck in his heart.

"Yes, I thought Anya would have been with...".

"She dumped me".

They both freeze. Viktor has is mouth still half open, while Georgij is on the verge of tears now, left hand pressed really hard against his eyes and a permanent sense of shame that doesn't want to leave his body. It was the most brutal way of saying it; he has managed to deny the harsh reality for fourty-eight hours straight but now he can't stand it alone anymore. He needs to give a shape to the lingering nausea that has haunted his entire being since Anya's " _dasvidanya_ " hit his ears like the rumble of an explosion.

It can't be possible, it isn't real, it has to be some sort of bad dream or...

"Oh, Gosha...".

Then he feels it, again, the light pressure of Viktor's body but this time is localized in his knuckles, which gently brush against the back of his hand, the one that's still clung to the glass of beer.

"What was it this time? You were too present and she got bored? You proposed and she wasn't ready to get serious?" Viktor starts list all the possible motives, trying to remember what were the most mentioned by his teammate, every time he arrived at the rink for trainings and started complaining about his heart being broken again and again. His voice is strangely quiet, as if he were singing a lullaby to a crying child, and this somehow puts Georgij at ease enough to speak out all of his frustration in a single, low and contorted whisper.

"She fell in love with another man. She... she told me she didn't love me anymore, because... because she found someone else. She... wasn't I enough?! Didn't... didn't I love her in the right way?! I thought she was... she is _the right one_ , Vitya. There's no one like her and she... she dumped me! She... Was it all an act?! Has she lied to me all this time? Was I... But, no, Anya... Anya is a wonderful person, she couldn't... And I loved her... I still love her, I thought it was enough!".

Georgij suddenly halts and inhales in quick breaths, desperately trying to regain his composure. His voice is a rise and fall of trebles and basses and follows every twirl of his mind, torn between a dull hatred and a delusional hope for a happy ending the deepest part of himself doesn't consider possible anymore.

"Apparently it wasn't, Gosha, or she wouldn't have dumped you!".

Viktor's voice is stainless steel, instead, and cuts his pride in two like a knife could do with a pat of butter. Georgij would react to his words in some way but he doesn't know how: Vitkor is wrong, he's sure there's still something he can do to fix things with Anya, he hasn't found the right way, yet.

"You should get over it, my friend, you know?".

Georgij can't expect Viktor to understand his suffering. He's different from him, sometimes he has even wondered if Viktor is as human as every other of his teammates. Viktor has married the ice many years ago and completely shut down the external world, he's almost self-sufficient and Georgij low-key envies him. If he had been so much dedicated to the rink, if he had given his entire mind, body and soul to the ice, maybe he could've overcome even the great Viktor Nikiforov. Maybe he would've accepted with more composure even what their weird relationship has entailed for such a long period of their life.

"Or so I would've said to you until three months ago, now... Ah, now I'm not sure of anything anymore".

There's a crack in Viktor's voice. Georgij finally notices it and it makes him shudders lightly, because he recognises the longing, the nostalgia, the lacerating need but he can't believe that Viktor Nikiforov has...

"Hmm? What's happened, Vitya?".

Now he's curious, Anya's thought swept aside to make room for Viktor's unexpected fissure in his apparently flawless facade, and it's his turn to lightly knock at his teammate's knuckles to draw his attention back. Georgij's always been quite reserved out of the rink but with his few, dearest friends has always spoken clearly. That's not Viktor's case, though; he can search for your help, speak few, cryptic words, but then it's your turn to understand what he wants and bring out his thoughts inch by inch. And Georgij Popovich has always been very good to chase the people he loves, in search of a treatment for their disease - both mental and physical.

"You seem detached from everything, lately... Well, more than your usual, I mean".

The arrival of Viktor's order makes them briefly pause and Georgij looks intensely at him, their hands still lightly connected. Viktor Nikiforov has always lived in a slight different dimension than that of his teammate, all his mind and being concentrated only on the ice: one could say his mind is on the moon but that's not exactly his case. He lives in his own dimension, a castle of ice and glass in which he is the absolute ruler and is able to dominate over his less skilled peers. Georgij has never been successful in shaking his throne and that's still one of his greatest regrets, but there's something different this time.

This time Viktor doesn't seem pleased at all.

"Have you finally hit it? Your limit?" he whispers and his blue eyes end up looking at the distance, to a secret hope he's been coveting for years: Viktor's retirement. It's also is biggest fear, though: if he disappears before he could find the way to overcome him, win the gold medal won't be the same. Viktor will still retire as a winner and he will be nothing more than the guy who won without facing him directly on the ice.

But then Viktor sighs and in his sigh hides the biggest surprise of the evening: "I met a boy, Gosha".

Viktor has met a lot of boys in his life. Well, not so much to liven up to his fame of being a playboy - newspapers like to exaggerate, when it comes to his private life - but Georgij is sure he hasn't ever seen Viktor sighing so melancholically when talking of another person.

"Or, better... An angel. He was a drunken Angel in shirt, tie, white underwear and nothing more".

Viktor chuckles softly at the memory but Georgij is just staring at him, marvelling at the miracle is happening in front of his eyes. Yes, it can only be a miracle - or the first sign of the Apoclaypse - the expression of sheer _love_ that has just appeared on Viktor's face.

Now he knows why he has gone all the way to find him and sitting in a pub he mildly despises.

His relationship with Viktor's has always been strange: they can be divided for months, they can almost forget the existence of the other, too involved in their personal problems, the daily routine, training's killer hours, the travels and the competitions, but when Viktor has love problems, there's only one person he goes searching for. The only one dramatic enough to sit and talk about the "magic" of a word he has never fully understood.

Until now, at least.

Their fingers almost interlace, while Georgij utters in an enthusiastic voice: "Did you _fall in love?_ ".

Viktor shudders a little at those words, as if he didn't realise earlier the entity of his feelings, even if he had been living in that torpid daydream for three months, by now. His baby blue eyes gaze intently at Georgij, because he doesn't honestly know how to put in words something he has completely missed for twenty-seven years of his life.

"I... _He left me_. He... He seduced me with his eloquent speech and his fluent gestures... He begged me to _train him_... And then he disappeared! He didn't leave a cellphone number, an address, a Facebook contact... Nothing! He... Hey, don't laugh! This is a serious business, Gosha!".

Georgij's laugh is low and grumbling like the distant echo of the Neva rumbling against its shores and Viktor feels him trembling against his hand, while he tries his best to be serious but fails.

"Well, sorry, but... The Great Viktor Nikiforov, famed playboy of all the five continents... Was dumped by someone? That's... That's incredible, welcome to my world, Vitya!" he utters, then raises his glass and clinks it to Viktor's one. He doesn't like to come off as rude but he couldn't let the chance slip. It's the first time in his life he sees Viktor's not getting what he wants - at least, not so easily.

But then he notices his teammate's slight discomfort and coughs weakly, before trying to be more serious.

"What's up this time? That Japanese skater left too much of an impression on you? I've never seen you so preoccupied, Vitya," he says and he means it. Now that his focus is all on Viktor, he couldn't help but notice the distress under his usual easygoing appearance, crawling under his skin like a subtle disease. He watches him take a sip of his beer, a long one, chugging it down like he'd like to do with whatever feeling is haunting him, and knows this is one of _those times_ he feels so bad, he has to drown his conscience in alcohol to keep on smiling.

But he doesn't smile when his reply arrives, "I don't feel preoccupied. I feel empty... Empty and full at the same time. I don't understand, Gosha. It has always been easy to push these feelings away... Ice and competitions have always been enough, I... I've never missed anyone so much... I've never wished to know a person better, follow... Follow them wherever they went and... I don't know. I was bored before meeting him. I was... I hit a ceiling, Gosha," Viktor pauses for a moment and shows him the most depressed of his looks.

It's the first time ice skating - the most important thing in his life, the only thing that has always mattered in all these years - betrays him so suddenly. Ice is his kingdom, the only place that has always felt like home. And now it has become a source of frustration and, even worst, people have become so acquainted to his art, they don't even find his programs surprising anymore. He feels frozen, for real, and empty and, for a brief moment Georgij finds out he can connect with his problems for the first time in their long, weird friendship.

"I hit a crystal ceiling, no... No, better, an _ice ceiling_ , I didn't enjoy my skating anymore. I thought I had given everything to this sport, and then... Then he arrived and messed up _everything_. You should've seen his reddened face... So cute... I was suddenly so inspired! I felt I could've done everything for him! And the he disappeared! And now I am left with this huge... need to make something in order for him to notice me! But what can I do? Follow him all the way to Japan? Make a program about this and make him understand how much it hurts since... I'm confused, Gosha... Is this... Is this what it means to be in love?!".

Georgij hasn't ever seen him feel so bad for another person. Never, not even when his friendship with Chris became something different and then they found out distances made everything too difficult. Georgij was there, Georgij has always been in the proximities of Viktor when something happened in his love life - or in the lack of one, to be more precise.

He was always one step behind him, always in his shadow. He saw how Viktor was ready to leave behind the pain so easily it almost seemed like he didn't care. He cared but not enough. He cared but ice skating has always come first and every other aspect of his life has always been unnecessary.

Sometimes Georgij thinks that this is probably the only right way to win. Maybe he wasn't worthy enough because he had always split his heart in two, a half for the ice, a half for the person he's been searching for all his life to love. Maybe if he has sacrificed everything for the sake of ice skating, he hadn't suffered so much, not even when he and Viktor...

"Yeah, Vitya. Yeah... When you feel like you miss something... When you feel like your life can't be complete again, if that something... That person doesn't become part of it... Well, you're _really in love_ ".

" _Anya_ ".

Georgij can't help but think about her again and again. She was... She is his muse, the love of his life, if she were here, now, she would probably steal a sip from his beer, say something about how _damn bitter_ it is and then start talking about their program, searching for his advice, talking about how much important their career is and how they should focus on it, because it's too early to give up on their dreams and settle down.

Maybe he has misunderstood, maybe he should've been more patient and don't rush things but _he can change_. He can fix everything, he only needs another chance.

"I bet you're feeling the rush of adrenaline now, uh? The ice ceiling isn't there anymore and you want to create something new and incredible and show the entire world what's troubling you and making every second of your day special and different from how it was before you met that boy...".

There's an incredibly soft light in Viktor's big, baby-blue eyes and Georgij stares at him intently. He has never been so close to him, so close to actual, normal human beings. He has always seemed so distant, too self-sufficient to be human, and now he's here, stumbling like every other person to find his way in a life that isn't easy anymore. There's been a time where he would’ve done everything to see the great Viktor Nikiforov falling for him in this exact, awesome way, but now too much time has passed and if there's someone he has given up on, that someone is precisely is lifelong rival.

"Before I forget... Is this boy that Japanese skater Yurij has photos of on his cellphone?".

Georgij adds those words by chance but Viktor's eyes light up again and he pulls out his cellphone and starts showing said photos.

"I don't know what to do, honestly" he says, while Georgij looks at his pictures: the Japanese skater seems very cute, actually, but moreover Viktor seems really, really happy.

"You can go and get him, Vitya. Or you can express your feelings with a majestic program and make sure to deliver the message to him... It depends on what kind of strategy you want to follow... And what you think could be the best way to win his heart".

"I don't know much about him... So I think the program... Yes, making him know with the right program could be the best choice". Viktor sighs and run a hand through his thin, silver hair, before putting it back on the table. Their knuckles touch again but this time Georgij's fingers interlace with his. If they were younger, they both know how they would have ended their evening: they would've consoled in each other's arms, there would've been quick kisses, the darkness of a bedroom (usually Georgij's one), hands sliding under clothes, Vitya's loud moans, Gosha's low breaths and then silence.

But this time everything is different: this time Georgij doesn't want to let Anya go - he loves her too much, they've built too many things together, he can't forget everything with a snap of his fingers; this time Viktor doesn't want to move on, Katsuki Yuuri's big, liquid eyes haunt his dream and feed his inspiration. This time there're only their still connected fingers and Georgij's voice, which raises in the quiet, crude atmosphere of the pub and says: "Yes, you can communicate a lot of things with the right program and if he's the right one, Vitya, he will understand. I... I think I'll do the same thing... I think I'll make Anya know how much she hurt me... And how I am ready to forgive her, even if she doubted our love and... And thought she was in love with someone else...".

Georgij hums softly, a crack in his more-than-usual voice, and Viktor's hand squeezes his with a firm grip, when he feels him trembling against his skin. It's sad to see him so quiet and resigned but Viktor Nikiforov has always preferred to speak clear, even if it will hurt his interlocutor. A harsh truth is always better than a myriad of little, white lies and he prefers his usual, dramatic self, with a lot of tears and complaints.

"Oh, Gosha. This is not a fairy tale. I think she's quite sure of her choice or she wouldn't have left you!".

Georgij's jaw tightens and, for a moment, it almost seems as if he's ready to leave his grip and stop listening to him. Viktor's thumb digs lightly in the skin and he's already calming down his rage in a way Georgij knows very well, when he finally speaks up again: "But if you want to use you program to show her how... awesome you are and what she has missed, that's a different matter. But you have to work hard, Gosha, you can't just sit around moping all day. You look miserable!".

Georgij puffs again but he can't hide a weak smile, when he relaxes in his grip and finally replies: "Speak for yourself! You're as white as a sheet, are you sure you don't need a touch of blush... Vitya, that's my beer, order another one for yourself!".

His roar ends up suffocated by Viktor's laugh and his teammate's free hand grabs his glass and empties it in a single, long gulp.

"Oh, yes, order another one, please. It's very good and I just _need it_ ".

Viktor's smile shines like a ray of sunshine in the darkest night. Georgij's heart can't help but falter a bit, before he has to suck it up and call the waiter. There's only another possible end for that evening and it features him holding up Viktor's head while he pukes his guts out after having too many drinks.

He can accept that role, though: they can be rivals on the ice but out of the rink he doesn't hold any grudge against him. He even cheers for him, somehow: he likes to see people falling in love and being reciprocated, he loves to find in their eyes that look that makes them happier, more optimistic, ready to conquer the world using all the energy that only love can give them. He's sure Vitkor will manage to reach his goal: he has always been one of those few people blessed by the Goddess of Luck and he has always got everything he really wished for.

Georgij doesn't really envy him but if he could make a single, little wish, he'd like to have an inch of his luck. Just enough to win Anya's heart back.

Nothing more.


	4. #4: Music - Rebel, Rebel (Georgij/Viktor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Oh, Gosha, just relax and take it easy!"._   
>  _Viktor's voice is as smooth as velvet and Georgij feels caressed by it, as if his teammate's white, silky hands were touching his soul, but he can't relax. He can't let go of the dreadful feeling that is tightly squeezing his stomach._   
>  _"Oh, Christ, Vitya, we can't possibly relax! We're stuck in Seinäjovi, it's almost two in the night, we don't have a place to stay and we should've been in Saint Petersburg tomorrow morning... Yakov will kill us!"._
> 
> _[Viktor/Georgij, Past Fic, Slice of Life, Mutual Pining, Resolved Emotional Tension, Teenagers trying to adulting (but ultimately failing)]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew... This one took a lot of days... Had a very busy week but couldn't miss the chance to post it before the end of the Backup Week. Well, this fic is set in 2004 and, yes, there was really a date of Bowie's Reality Tour that year in Seinäjoki Here Georgij and Viktor are sixteen years old but they already like to drive Yakov crazy - especially Viktor--- I' m really sorry for all the Bowie's infodump ~~Georgij's not the only hardcore fan, here~~.  
>  As usual, sorry for any mistake you will find during the reading, however, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!

_June 21 2004_

"Oh, Gosha, just relax and take it easy!".

Viktor's voice is as smooth as velvet and Georgij feels caressed by it, as if his teammate's white, silky hands were touching his soul, but he can't relax. He can't let go of the dreadful feeling that is tightly squeezing his stomach.

"Oh, Christ, Vitya, we can't possibly relax! We're stuck in Seinäjovi, it's almost two in the night, we don't have a place to stay and we should've been in Saint Petersburg tomorrow morning... Yakov will kill us!".

Viktor, languidly sitting on a worn-out wooden bench, looks at him: his young teammate has been walking back and forth across the platform for at least fifteen minutes. His steps are quick and nervous, at this rate - Viktor suspects - he will dig a grove in the grey concrete of the platform before the sun rises again. He shrugs and softly replies, as if he were whispering sweet nothings at his ear: "Oh, you're overreacting again, Gosha! He will understand! We will be back in the afternoon... Moreover, this isn't even a vacation, it is... a study trip! We've come here to study _Real Art_ , to quote you directly".

Viktor smiles - his rosy lips curling up, while something inside Georgij's chest cracks open and pops like a fireworks explosion - and then stretches his legs over the bench, occupying it almost completely.

Georgij stands still and looks at him, speechless, while wearing the most troubled expression, together with a purple shirt with the printing of Ziggy Stardust singing to the stars, a pair of white ripped jeans and a synthetic leather black jacket. Viktor finds him really cute and funny, because the more Georgij Popovich gets nervous, the more his manners become theatrical and that means he doesn't get bored easily in his company.

Then Georgij stops spacing out and utters a desperate, "Yes, today we've seen the most brilliant performance I've ever... but Vitya! Don't distract me! What about... What about the fact we have to sleep _here_ , out in the open! In a train station! What if...".

He stops for a moment, savouring those words as if they were an itching poison he didn't want to gulp down, and then he whispers in his most concerned tone: "What if... They kidnap us?! We're starting to become pretty famous... Just imagine if they sent out a ransom demand to Yakov!".

Georgij's face is a bright shade of red, while he voices his worst fears about their temporary mishap. He's used to live far away from home for prolonged periods of time, by now, but sometimes he's deeply afraid of losing his anchor: he's only sixteen and Yakov is a tutor for him, both on ice and in real life. He doesn't really like the idea of disobeying him - or, worst, of _disappointing_ his coach - but all his good deeds went to waste, when Viktor showed up with the most unexpected gift for him.

"Oh, then I hope the kidnappers will let me talk to Yakov, so I will remind him to take care of Maccachin!".

Georgij sighs and shakes his head: if he has problems with all the "how to adulting" thing, his teammate loves to sail in even more uncharted waters. The basic difference is that Viktor seems quite at ease with being completely unaware of the world around him; Georgij, instead, can't help but freak out, because his current life is constantly evolving into something different and he can't quite get a grasp of all these changes - he can only go with the flow and hope it won't overwhelm him. It's like that song says, _time may change him, but he can't trace time_.

"It was quite something, though...".

Viktor's voice forces him to ignore his depressing train of thought and Georgij blinks, trying to focus back on his teammate's figure. Viktor doesn't quite know how to properly cheer people up: he's not even that attentive to their mood changes but he and Georgij have been teammates for more than a year and a half; plus, he's quite theatrical in expressing his feelings and that helps him understand what's going on in his mind.

"The concert, I mean. Bowie was... How shall I put it? Mesmerising on that stage!".

"Oh, yes... Yes! David has reached the _peak of Art_. You should've seen him when he made the first Ziggy Stardust performance... Not that this concert wasn't spectacular... When he turned in our direction because the sun was blinding him... Have you seen it? People went totally crazy!".

Now Georgij's smiling, while a rush of adrenaline starts flowing in his veins again. It has been the strangest concert he has ever attended in his life - it was his first concert, to be quite honest: it was eight in the evening but the sun was still high in the sky and they were surrounded by people and the earthy smell of the forest.

He was together with Viktor, his rival. He still can't quite grasp the motives behind his seemingly selfless gift. During the last months, he has talked a lot about how much he was excited for Bowie's Reality Tour and how much he was sad he couldn't have attended any of the dates - and they were a lot. Viktor surely understood he was a hardcore fan - he has this _slight tendency_ to get carried away, when he talks about his passions - but Georgij didn't expect his teammate to be so generous with him. He bought the tickets without even telling him first - another person could have reject his too unexpected gift, could have suspected ulterior motives, but Georgij is a good boy. He's not used to think bad of other people: plus, he's quite sure Viktor was bored - he gets bored very easily - and simply took a chance to live a little adventure during that uneventful summer.

It has been quite an adventure, indeed. They took the first train for Tampere at six in the morning, they changed their train during the morning and arrived in Seinäjoki after a seven-hour trip. Then they got off at a wholly unknown city and asked where the concert was to be held. They knew nothing of Seinäjoki, they didn't have a map nor they spoke Finnish, and he even trusted Viktor, when he said, " _don't worry, I thought of everything_ ".

 _False_.

Viktor is an utter disaster when it comes to making plans, he lacks any practical sense, but his English was good enough to ask for the right directions and he managed to charm everyone, since he convinced every person they met, they were both over 18.

Georgij even felt like a criminal - he's never been good at lying - but he still followed him: every regret had already evaporated like smoke that same morning, when he had seen Viktor's smile at Saint Petersburg's station. He had already stopped fearing any consequence, when his beautiful, silky hair had covered his shoulder, because his teammate had chosen to take a nap on the train, as if they weren't doing something extraordinary.

He knows very well the feeling, it isn't the first time he becomes so pliable around another person. It's the first time it happens because of a guy, though... his rival, for Christ's sake...!

"Yes, I saw... It was awesome! I'd really like to have that same effect on people, when I skate" Viktor sighs. He likes to skate, a lot. For him it's more natural than breathing, even, and he knows he's very good at it. His first achievements in senior competitions prove his talent but he knows he could do more. He could become a legend, even.

Georgij coughs and Viktor raises his head, an eerie look on his face, while he utters a confused: "Yeah, what's up?".

"I'm sorry to interrupt your musing, Vitya..." he starts but then exhales an exasperated sigh and approaches the bench. He makes a gesture with his head, hands deep down in his pockets, like a silent " _move_ " directed to Viktor but he simply draws his knees to his chest and remains in that strange position, while his teammate sits down with a loud puff.

"...but you already have an effect on people... when you skate. A big effect".

He gives him a frustrated look and then sighs again: Viktor is curled up in the most ridiculous position ever and still manages to look gorgeous, like a princess made only of light and the kind of material dreams are made of, probably. He wears a pair of jeans and a sweater that would look awful on every other person, but on him... Oh, on Viktor even a trash bag would look like an haute couture dress. He can't say out loud he has an effect on people - on him - even out of the rink, though, so he shrugs off that feeling of vulnerability and smiles, trying to look confident.

"But I'm working on surprising people even more. You'll see. I'm not planning to remain at the second place for all my life!".

"Oh, but silver is such a good colour! If you like that kind of stuff, I mean," Viktor says, smiling even more, and gives him a playful kick. It's funny to tease his teammate - he talks a lot about "rivalry" and overcoming him, but out of the rink Viktor could say he's a cutie pie. All his dark attitude, when he has to choose the style of his costumes or the themes and the musics for his programs, fades away to leave behind a pretty introvert teenager.

He's not even good at faking a cool attitude, because even the always distracted Viktor easily notices his pretense... Not to mention he's very boisterous about their placement during competitions but after them he ends up every single time gravitating around him.

Sometimes he's too boisterous for his taste, but Viktor doesn't have many acquaintances and Georgij is very genuine when it comes to show his interest... Viktor's not even sure he wants to become only his friend but he can't prove it. He can only think about the tension he feels every time they're very closer – as happened during the concert, when Georgij was singing his heart out over "Modern Love" and they both collide for a brief moment... it was enough to feel pure electricity flowing through his veins.

It's the same - somehow both imperceptible and devastating - feeling he gets, when he decides to sit properly and his shoulders touch Georgij's arm, stretched over the backrest.

He stands still, though, while his teammate starts talking again, seemingly unaware of his inner turbulence.

"Pfft… Joke, if you want, but I'll make you bite the dust!" he utters and his voice echoes in the half dead station. He keeps his arm around Viktor's shoulders, almost nonchalantly, even if his hand is trembling a little. He feels nervous, his throat is dry and every time Viktor gazes at him his stomach does a somersault. Maybe it's all fault of the concert, maybe it's the rush of adrenaline, the excitement, the fact that Viktor seems so soft and friendly, while he jokes with him, but he’s head over heels... and it's kinda horrible. He shouldn't feel like this toward his best rival.

"But... well... I didn't know you were a Bowie's fan".

"Not really... I knew some of his songs... And I saw some of his previous stage personas... This... Thin White Duke phase seems very interesting, I'd like to hear more about it".

Viktor points at his t-shirt and smiles a little: it's a grey t-shirt with a printing of David Bowie dressed as the Thin White Duke Georgij insisted to buy him, because, apparently, he " _couldn't step in a concert of a singer with the t-shirt of another band_ "... Oh, Georgij sometimes can be so _picky_ but it was still a cute gift and he even talked about repaying him for all the money he had spent for the tickets. He's such a good and honest boy, Viktor finds him really cute.

"Oh, I can tell you everything! I have some old VHS and tapes in my room... It's not easy to find videos of his earliest performances on the British television, but you should totally watch his interview for Dick Cavett in 1974!".

Georgij's attempt to distract himself seems successful, because he can occupy his mind with every piece of information he has collected about one of his favourite artists ever. His eyes light up and he rushes out in a passionate puff piece about the difficulties the singer had to endure during the last part of the Seventies. He even starts to gesticulate and remove his arm from Viktor's shoulders, not noticing the slight disappointment in his expression.

"I saw you singing during the concert, so... what songs did you know before it?".

Georgij's blue eyes are looking at him with genuine interest and Viktor hesitates a bit, before answering.

"Uh, I knew _Heroes_...".

"Yes, well, it's a must, everyone knows Heroes".

 _Picky_.

Viktor raises a eyebrow and starts to list the few songs he still remembers: "Then there's _Life on Mars_ , _Let's Dance_ , _Rebel Rebel_ , _The Man Who Sold the World_... Well, I've heard the _Nirvana_ 's cover, first... Starman, too...".

"Oh, yes, they're among the most famous! But he did a lot of experimental music, too... Beside _The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust_... it's considered his masterpiece... There's the Berlin Trilogy... You need to absolutely listen to those three albums! I can make you a compilation, when we'll be back in Saint Petersburg!".

Georgij doesn't even pay attention, but he ends up lightly squeezing Viktor's knee, while he gets carried away by the discourse about every tiny detail of Bowie's addiction to cocaine and how Berlin practically saved his life. Viktor looks at him and laughs a little. This is probably the funniest part of talking with Georgij: if he's comfortable, he can go from zero to over-dramatic hero in three seconds straight. It's a cute side, also, because Viktor's not particularly good at making friends - he can seem quite lightheaded and he's sincere to the point of turning out to be rude, when he speaks his mind. He doesn't even know how to reach out to another person and he usually ends up losing interest and giving up but Georgij... is so intense and he's clearly one of those people who's not always very present, he's even ready to work for both of them in order to keep their relationship alive. That's really important for him, since Georgij seems to not bother too much about the fact he can become quite oblivious of his presence - as if he really liked to work hard to win his attention back.

"Now that I recall, one of my favourites is... Uh... The one he sang with the Queen's frontman... _Under Pressure_? I want it in that compilation" Viktor utters, lazily joking with a lock of his long, silvery hair. The gesture captures all of Georgij's attention and he almost freezes, while Viktor consciously keeps on playing with his hair only to have is blue, intense gaze all focused on him.

"What were the lyrics, again? _Under pressure, that burns a building down, splits a family in two, gets people on streets..._ ".

Viktor starts singing for no particular reason, except that he feels good, as if he just completed a particularly complicated program. Georgij's hand is still on his knee while his voice, higher and more childish than that of his teammate, resonates on the platform like the lullaby of some snarky fairy. He's not particularly well-versed in singing but there's something seducing in the way his rosy, heart-shaped mouth forms the words of his head slowly moves from side to side.

Georgij is speechless. He doesn't even know how to breath anymore, he's too hypnotised by his teammate's movements to do anything else than looking at him and trying not to blink too much. He's beautiful, his baby-blue eyes are so distant, lost in the effort of remembering the right words, and his hair are so soft and silvery, he'd like to touch them, but he feels like a creep even for having thought of doing it.

Then Viktor moves closer and Georgij suddenly feels the urge to break the spell, uttering,

"No, no... It's _puts_ not _gets_ , and that last rhyme actually comes before...".

"Oh, Gosha, you're so _picky_!" Viktor mutters, deeply frustrated because his teammate doesn't seem to understand but Georgij tries to hide his embarrassment - because he's just imagined getting even closer to Viktor's face... and he's so sure he would laugh at him, if he knew he would really like to ki...

"No, but if you want to sing it, at least sing it properly! It is _puts people on streets, it's the terror of knowing what this world is about, watching some good friends screaming 'Let me out'_ ".

Georgij doesn't sing because he's happy. He sings because he's nervous and feels excitement flowing in his veins together with the deep desire of touching Viktor and forgetting they're teammates and rivals and it's not good to harbour feelings for someone you should only desire to overcome. Georgij sings and, at this point, Viktor chooses to accept the challenge and raises his voice, trying to drown out his singing. Georgij's more in tune but his voice is lower and makes a perfect contrast with Viktor's one, so they both end up singing their heart out, forgetting is two in the night, the station is almost dead and they were arguing about the lyrics just a minute ago.

Georgij shivers when it's Viktor's arm that embraces his shoulders but he keeps on singing, he even leans on him, as if he could expect something more from his teammate and, by the time they start singing the second refrain, Viktor's head is so close to his, their temples touche and he can feel his silky, long hair against his skin.

Only when his heartbeat is so deafening he can't hear his voice anymore, he notices Viktor has just stopped singing and he's looking at him intensely. A laughter builds up from the pit of his stomach and Georgij lets it out, together with the more and more intense tension is innervating his muscles. Surprisingly enough, Viktor follows him and they both ends up laughing together, forehead against forehead, until Viktor's mouth is on his and they're not laughing anymore.

He had not planned this. He simply wanted to do something different, escaping from Saint Petersburg and feel the thrill of a new adventure - going to the concert of a singer he barely knows with a teammate he's not sure if he's friend with or what else. They're both young and full of life and they both feel alone for very different reasons: Viktor knows that no one in this moment is closer to him than Georgij. He's not sure the moment will last but he knows that now he could even fall in love and he wants him to know. He wants Georgij to acknowledge his feelings, to know he makes him feel really good right now. He just presses his rosy lips against his, he feels his hesitation and a subtle shivering against his skin and doesn't try anything more. He breaks apart after a few seconds but they're both not breathing and he's suddenly assailed with doubts: Georgij likes girls, Viktor's not so sure he could accept to be kissed by another boy, his rival, as he repeats too often.

Then Georgij starts breathing again, his mind slowly processing what has just happened, while his cheeks turn the brightest shade of red and his hands move. It's only a matter of seconds and then " _Oh, he's also into boys, so..._ " Viktor realises, when his teammate's mouth clashes against his in the most nervous and impatient kiss he has ever experienced.

Georgij knows: he knows he usually finds girls more attractive than boys; he knows he shouldn't do this kind of things with a teammate (his designed rival); he knows Viktor doesn't expect him to repay his favour in this way. But he also knows Viktor's the most beautiful person he has ever met, he has the grace of a princess and a fierce tongue, that can cut his pride into pieces. He knows he likes his skating... he likes him and his long, silver hair too much and he can't believe he had been so stupid not to notice Viktor wouldn't have laughed at him, if he had tried to kiss him.

It's not the first time they kiss someone else but it's the first time they both feel so deeply involved: Georgij's fingers are deeply dug in his teammate's shirt, while Viktor's hands are on his shoulders and his neck. He wanted only to reciprocate his kiss but they both end breathless, while they part their lips, searching for more - teeth, tongue, the sweet taste of the other against the throat. Georgij has to remind himself they're in a public place, but his heart is beating furiously and he's kissing Viktor Nikiforov, what the heck is happening to the world?! His breath slightly tickles Viktor and he giggles a little, before aggressively repaying him with a kiss so deep and so wet, they both softly moan. He feels all of Georgij's impatience under the palms he's pressing against his shoulders and his chest; he feels his confused and genuine affection, as if it was something warm and enveloping, and Georgij feels his fingers, smooth and cold, caressing his short, black hair and the soft skin of his neck, as if he was really touching something deep inside of him, bringing to light thoughts he had tried to ignore until now. They don't feel alone anymore and that's more than enough.

When they finally break away from their kiss, they both need a long moment to regain their composure: they're both red and breathless but if Georgij's stubbornly looking away, Viktor's baby blue eyes are wholly focused on him.

"Whew... Was it... Was it your way to thank me? Because it was very intense".

Viktor's smiling and Georgij tries to look at him but he has to quickly avert his gaze: with those rosy lips shining wet under the neon lights, his still reddened cheeks and his liquid baby blue eyes, Georgij feels tempted to beg him for another kiss... for even more than that.

"Sort of" he murmurs and then covers his face with a hand in a mild attempt to hide his embarrassment but he fails: Viktor notices it but he finds it so funny and cute he can't stop embracing him in a half hug and look at his face. Georgij's blue eyes are shining but he's desperately trying his best to look less... vulnerable. He's just kissed Viktor Nikiforov and his heart's beating so fast, he's afraid he could die at any moment: it was intense, so intense he can't still believe he had the audacity to go that far, to kiss him for so long that he's head is still spinning for the lack of air.

Viktor gets slowly closer to his face, minding not to startle him: in this moment he seems made of shards of glass, carefully glued together, and he doesn't want him to fall into pieces, not while they're so absurdly happy they can almost touch the stars.

"I didn't know you put so much passion in your kisses" he gently whispers, making his teammate shiver a little.

" _Nor I,_ " Georgij'd like to say to him but instead he mumbles, "I... uh... put passion in every thing I do. It's my way of living... hmmm".

His face feels hot and his entire body is on the verge of collapsing in on itself, when Viktor smiles - he barely sees his rosy lips curling up and he has to stop the urge to kiss them again - and leans towards him, whispering against his ear, "Well... If you're always so good, I could end up coming back for more, you know~?".

"C-Christ, Vitya! ... Not now! The mental image... Oh, this is so embarrassing!".

Georgij utters those words with an almost high-pitched shriek, Viktor laughs and, for some unspecified reasons, he wants to laugh with him. His nervousness comes out together with his protests and he's finally able to relax in his teammate's embrace. Viktor's happy, he doesn't seem unsettled or annoyed, while Georgij... well, he's a hot mess of hormones, feelings and confused fantasies but he has to regain his composure, somehow.

"I'm... umpf! Do as you please, I don't mind!" he dares to say, finally looking straight into Viktor's baby blue eyes. They shine bright and Georgij notices only after a second his last statement could be easily misinterpreted.

But it's already too late and Viktor's commenting his words with a naughty smile on his lips,

"Well, okay, then I think I'll...lean on you and I'll sleep until the train's arrival!".

"I'm not your pillow, Vitya!" Georgij tries to protest, but his teammate's head is already against his chest - and it's really embarrassing, since his heart still beats like crazy.

"Hmm, no, you're not soft enough, indeed. Sigh... I think I'll be content with it...".

Viktor's sigh is long and exaggerated and Georgij doesn't believe his "sacrificing himself" not even for a second. "Tsk, you should feel privileged to sleep on my chest!" he utters but then it's his turn to embrace him in a clumsy hug, his arm around his shoulders, while his teammate cuddles up to him. Georgij's body is warm and protects him in a sweet hug, so, Viktor's doesn't need too much time to relax completely and fall into a deep slumber. Only when his breath becomes regular and low, Georgij lightly presses his cheek against Viktor's head. His hair is really soft - they vaguely smell like flowers and pine needles - and he feels strange: his mind is torn between excitement and a deep sense of closure. He decides to give in to the second one: he's tired and stupidly happy. He doesn't know how things will end up, when they'll be back in StSaint Petersburg. He doesn't want to think about it, for now, he just wants to savour the moment, until it lasts. He follows Viktor in his sleep without a second thought.

Just once Georgij doesn't mind following Viktor in something.


	5. #5: Making art to deal with a broken heart - Nearly forgot my broken heart (Georgij+Mila)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Georgij's deep voice fills the room and drowns out the already low volume of the TV; his hand isn't on her knee anymore and Mila watches her friend waving it in the air, drawing imaginary lines to highlight the meaning of his words. His gaze is distant and there's a light of excitement that shines in his blue eyes: Georgij loves to describe every little detail he puts in his programs as much as he loves the moment he can finally perform them for all to see. Mila could list at least twenty reasons or more behind his last five programs, she was there, she saw him elaborate them and even bother to explain why he chose that precise theme. He has always been ready to show her how the creative process works - and he has always been quite good with choreography - but it's the first time he talks so much about a personal matter._
> 
> [Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Skinship, Slice of Life, Past Crush]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to post this in time for hTe Popoweek but WHATEVER, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME. I adore Georgij and Mila together - either as friends or as lovers - and I really loved writing this shot. It's another one set shortly after Georgij's conversation with Viktor but before the cinema chapter with Yurij. In this chapter I also introduced my headcanon about Georgij's Siberian origins (I will elaborate further in the next chapter) but, above all, I talked a lot about his friendship with Mila.  
> Hope you'll like it and, as always, it's not betaed, so, sorry for any mistake!  
> Have fun~!

_April 2015_

"... And then I broke his CD collection...".

"Wait... what?! Did you... Did you really break all of his CDs?! That's... Mmh... Isn't it too much?".

Georgij briefly winces at those words and tries to get more comfortable on the couch but Mila's heels are planted in his right thigh and he has to stand still, while she exhales an angry puff.

"He broke my heart, Gosha. I chose to break what he loves the most... Without directly touching him, obviously".

Mila crunches on a cookie with anger, as if she could gnaw at something else - probably one of Pëtr's leg, Georgij isn't sure but doesn't want to go into that - so, "Mila... I'm... concerned... I don't wanna come visit you in prison every Sunday, you know?" he whispers, desperately trying to change the topic of the conversation, in order to let his friend cool down but the disgruntled look on her face tells a whole different story.

"Oh, please, don't be so dramatic! It was only an innocent act of vengeance... He deserved it!".

Georgij's not used to see his best friend like this: Mila's proud and likes to speak very frankly, yes, and she has always been vocal about her dislikes but it's the very first time he sees her so... resigned. There's something acid and dark that lingers in the bottom of her crystal clear eyes, something that makes her voice shaking with anger and disillusionment: she's not proud of herself, not even while she lists every little act of destruction she performed in her ex's apartment. There where mementos, in that place, gifts she had made to Pëtr, a whole story narrated by objects but she went and destroyed everything. Mila left him without a single trace of her presence in his life, a whole year obliterated, as if they had never met, as if erasing any physical proof of their relationship could have erased even the pain she were experiencing right at that moment.

Georgij knows very well how does it feel - though his reaction to the same matter has been quite different - but he doesn't say it. He soften his voice, instead, and says, "Oh, Mila, I know he misbehaved... He was horrid! And you have every reason in the world to be angry... but doing something like this... destroying his properties... You're hurting yourself, too. Now his CD collection is broken, your heart is broken and you feel horrible... This is not the right way to...".

"And what should I do, uh? Crying? Lock myself in the bedroom and eat ice-cream until I burst? I'm angry, Gosha. I'm angry and I don't understand why I feel so... so bad, fuck! I should hate him, by now, not feeling miserable and... nostalgic because some part of me doesn't want to let him go, apparently!".

Mila gesticulates with animosity, the bag of chocolate cookies on her lap almost falling over, and her face is flushed, while she tries her best to calm down and not be overwhelmed by the same rage that makes her voice tremble. Georgij can feel - can see - the tension in her body, the way she clenches her teeth and fists, frustrated and disappointed in herself for something she can only describe as an "irredeemable weakness". So, he smiles softly, slipping through the sudden silence, and lightly pats her knee, as if he were trying to calm an untamed lioness.

"There's nothing wrong with it! I know... I know that you still love him, now, even if you're aware you can't be with him anymore. I think... The heart is an involuntary muscle, Mila... You can't expect to control it with your brain... You have to wait, to be patient... You have to give it time to mend itself, to... adapt to a new reality and understand. It's a gradual process, I... I'm so sorry your first, serious break-up has happened because of something so nasty...".

Mila flinches under Georgij's palm, until he strengthen his grip in a gentle stroke and she lets out a deep sigh, finally relaxing a bit and leaning back against the sofa's armrest. She focuses on him, on the docile look in his blue eyes, and she feels slightly less confused: she knows his friend is an diehard romantic and sometimes sees the reality through rose-tinted glasses but this time he's not wrong.

"It has been my longest relationship... He... It wasn't like the other times, I'm eighteen... I was serious! I believed it could've last longer than this... I believed he loved me! Sincerely!" she tries to explain in an enraged roar of frustration, but Georgij simply listens to her and keeps on slowly caressing her knee and her leg, knowing all she really needs now is the reassuring physical contact of a friend and to be listened instead of being lectured.

"And now? Ugh... I know he's not the only one... I know not all guys are cheaters like him but... I feel like I won't trust anyone anymore... What if... What if I'm attracted only by people like him?! What if I'll end up choosing the same type of person again and again? I honestly don't wanna try again... I want only to concentrate on skating and... ugh, forget all the rest".

Mila doesn't look him in the eye, while she speaks. Her gaze is completely absorbed in following the slow movements of Georgij's thumb against the side of her knee: he's tracing invisible circles over her black pants and there's something hypnotic in that gesture, something that makes her ignore how much embarrassed she feels throwing up all those pathetic recriminations, uttered in a teary voice she barely recognises as her own.

"I can't blame you, Mila. I understand your fears... I'm starting to think love is dead, to be quite honest...".

Georgij sighs and his fingers stop moving, while Mila suddenly remembers she's not the only one with a broken heart in that room. She bites her lower lip and, "Oh, Gosha, sorry, I shouldn't bother you with..." utters, trying to atone for her supposed insensitivity but her friend shakes his head and his blue eyes are still dry, when he turns to look at her.

"It's okay, Mila, it's... Your wound is still fresh and... Well, I'm older than you, and I can offer some useful suggestions" he interrupts her and there's something proud and slightly arrogant in his voice and the brief smile he makes, when he points out their age gap.

Mila smirks and is very tempted to remind him that his advantage of ten years hasn't made him wiser, since he seems prone to making always the same mistakes but she refrains from doing that acid comment, simply raising an eyebrow. It's the first time in weeks she sees him smiling but it's so strange the way Georgij curl up his thin lips, as if he forgot how to properly smile and his pale face knew only how to make the most tired expressions.

"Give yourself time to grieve this breakup, Mila... Use your pain to show the world how much you cared and how much stupid Pëtr was... Work with your pain, don't ignore it. It's there and you know, it's better to embrace it, to let it hurt you all the way and only then finally let it go. It's... liberating and, you know... it's inspiring, you come to understand a lot of things about yourself... about your perception of the world surrounding you... about your way of dealing with people, now that you feel so much pain".

Georgij's deep voice fills the room and drowns out the already low volume of the TV; his hand isn't on her knee anymore and Mila watches her friend waving it in the air, drawing imaginary lines to highlight the meaning of his words. His gaze is distant and there's a light of excitement that shines in his blue eyes: Georgij loves to describe every little detail he puts in his programs as much as he loves the moment he can finally perform them for all to see. Mila could list at least twenty reasons or more behind his last five programs, she was there, she saw him elaborate them and even bother to explain why he chose that precise theme. He has always been ready to show her how the creative process works - and he has always been quite good with choreography - but it's the first time he talks so much about a personal matter.

"So... are you telling me... you wanna use the pain you're experiencing since A... _she_..." Mila corrects herself a moment before pronouncing that cursed name but nonetheless Georgij winces and she forces herself to keep on speaking in order to distract him.

"... since she left you? Are you serious? Do you wanna make a program about your break-up?".

Mila's voice falters a little, while she props herself on an elbow, trying to take a good look at his expression. Georgij's looking right back at her and he's pretty determined when he utters, "Yes! I want her to know...how much she hurt me... How much she's still hurting me... She told me she wasn't ready to love... to love me and then she replaced me after only one week... She has to know what she did to me... she will understand...".

Georgij's voice is full of anger and disappointment, instead, of something dark and heavy and Mila knows all too well what that means: he's not violent, even if his feelings are always pretty intense, but he's very good at hurting himself, when he doesn't find a way to properly express them. "I don't think she's so sensitive to your sorrow, you know... If she dumped you, you'd better forget her instead of wasting your energy dedicating her an entire program... She doesn't even deserve it!" she replies and there's concern in her voice: she doesn't like to watch his friend crawling at the feet of the umpteenth girl who dumped him without a second thought but she prefers this delusional, yet energetic, version of Georgij to the depressed, almost decadent one she has seen during the last ten days. He's reacting and that's still a good thing.

"No, I'll put all my passion in this program... all my energies... I know she will see... she will understand her mistakes... and, in any case... I've got something to do. I'm using my pain but I'm not trying to forget it... And when I finally go to sleep...it's not there to haunt me, because I've already faced it during the day... I... It works Mila and it helps you reconsidering a lot of things".

Georgij's fingers are back on her knee and there's something reassuring in the way he lightly squeeze it, trying his best to convince her he's right. She's not so sure, though, and she doesn't share his same enthusiasm about that particular matter but she still smiles, a little puzzled, before reaching his friend's hand and lacing her fingers with his in a strong grip. She hesitates a bit, checking for something on his face that will tell her if it's the right moment to argue about his decisions. She tries to choose a different way to tell him, a way that doesn't directly involve him, because he seems frail like a castle of sand and she doesn't want to be _that_ wave of sea that messes with it completely.

"Hmmm... the idea of... you know... make a program specifically about my personal problems... It's not exactly my style," she begins and her baby blue eyes doesn't reciprocate her friend's puzzled gaze. It's only when she utters, "But you're right, I can use all this rage and confusion to make something creative. I can think about a theme frightening enough to satisfy my _bloodthirst_ , hmm?" that she finally raises her eyes and they both burst into a deep laugh over that last, sinister word Mila has chosen to use. They're both angry, Mila can feel it in how sharp and sore their laughs sound, even if they're enjoying their time together.

"So... have you skated about a heartbreak even that time? I mean, the year you made your debut in the senior category, when you chose 'Loneliness' as a theme for your program" she quickly adds, before silence can fall down again over their shoulders.

Georgij furrows his brow, trying to recall a program made twelve years before, then he makes the most nostalgic smile ever and, "Oh, no, I was... I was talking about _home_. About the fact I missed my family," he whispers. Mila's gaze becomes even more curious and she tilts her head to the side, waiting to know the rest of the story.

Georgij makes a little sigh and when he starts talking again, his voice is thinner and softer than his usual, "It was the first time I could make an entire program all by myself and I had been in Saint Petersburg for three years, by then, but I missed my family a lot... I still miss them now but that time it seemed harder to stand all that pain... It was my first time in the senior category, I was so excited but it was all so new... too new... I didn't have many friends and me and Vitya weren't still very close... he just joined Yakov's team... All I felt was loneliness. It was blinding and crippling and I couldn't talk about it with anyone... I just.. you know, I didn't want my family to worry about me... I didn't want Yakov to think I was still too young and too full of doubts... So, I made an entire program about it and I used the tale of Terešička, who was kidnapped by the witch Čuvilicha and was saved and brought back home by a plucked duckling... Not that I considered Yakov a witch, though".

They both laugh, again, but Georgij seems more relieved after telling his story, as if recalling the past could help him forget about the present, even if only temporarily. Mila looks at him, speechless: he has still ten years more than her, it's true, and even if they've been knowing each other for five years, by now, there're still a lot of details about his teen years and his childhood in Novosibirsk she doesn't know. They're so absorbed in training and competitions, she sometimes forgets how little time they have to socialise and get to really know each other.

"But... Wow, do you remember that competition? You was... six years old when I made that program," Georgij asks her in an intrigued voice and Mila winces, still keeping a firm grip on his fingers. He seems very flattered, when she quickly explains in a small laughter, "Oh, when I joined Yakov's team, I made sure to study very well my future teammates' performances... You know, I was twelve years old, I was desperate to make a good impression!".

Georgij nods sympathetically and Mila silently thanks he hasn't noticed it: her voice briefly faltering, the way she avoided any eye contact while talking about being twelve or the fact her laugh sounded a bit too hysterical to be relaxed.

Yes, she's always liked ice skating: she watched a lot of competitions when she was a child but it's a complete lie that she studied every performance of every single one of her future teammates.

It's more like... she could have had a _little crush_ on Georgij Popovich back when she was twelve... not on Viktor - it's easy to fall in love with him, everyone loves Viktor Nikiforov and she preferred the darker style Georgij has always exhibited on ice - but he doesn't have to know. She was only a little girl and he seemed so adult and professional - the simple idea makes her laugh, now that she knows him better - and she knows what he's like. If she said him something about her old crush, Georgij would _deeply apologise_ for not having understood, nor having been younger enough to reciprocate her feelings or whatever absurd idea he could come up with.

"Think about it, Mila. Even if you don't wanna make your program too personal, it could help you, using all this pain for good. And don't be so hard on yourself, still having feelings for someone who doesn't deserve them anymore isn't a fault, you know?".

Georgij's look is soft as cotton candy, when he finally speaks those words and Mila nods while curling her rosy lips in an uncertain smile, because there's always something embarrassing and deeply comforting in the tenderness her friend has every time he wants to console her.

"And you should stop caring for people who don't deserve your time," she adds with a very determined voice but Georgij shakes his head and looks away... _So stubborn_.

"At least, stop playing the hero! I know you still feel bad," she insists, because she can be even more stubborn than him, if that's the game he wants to play. Georgij tries to shy away from those insinuations but he's not good at lying and Mila simply has to pull his hand and order in a motherly tone, "Come here," to convince him to stop pretending all is good and nothing hurts.

"There, there," he hears Mila whispers, more softly, and her voice echoes against his ear, when he buries his face in the tender skin of her neck. He doesn't say anything, only focusing on the distant and regular beating of Mila's heart, somewhere deep in her chest, and she lets him stay, hugging him lightly.

His strong arms are already folded around her waist and only voices from the TV fill the air, when Mila feels something wet dripping over her skin. "Are you crying?" she asks in a gentle whisper but it's only a rhetoric question that needs no real answer. Georgij nonetheless speaks and his voice is a hoarse muttering, when he finally utters, "No, no... it's only... This movie is so... so bad, it bores me to tears... you know".

Mila's laugh is soft but her fingers are even softer, when she touches his short, spiky hair and calmly traces spirals over his scalp. It's so relaxing he could even fall asleep between her arms but instead he sighs and closes his eyes, waiting for something.

It only takes a few minutes and then it happens: he doesn't have to look up to know even Mila's started to cry, he feels her arms squeezing him some more and her cheek pressed against his head and he reciprocates her tight embrace, without letting the warmth trapped between their bodies leave them.

Georgij doesn't speak: they're both sad and they have all the right to be like this but they're together and he's relieved he can mourn the loss he feels deep down in his heart with Mila. It somehow makes everything seeming easier and... less unfair.


	6. #6: Following your dream since you were a child - Nature Boy (Georgij)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Georgij observes them and shakes his head, reassured, before opening his backpack to reach for his skates. There're not many people, there, and he's relieved to see none of them is one of his schoolmates. He doesn't go there to chat and play: he was looking forward to wearing his skates again and touching the irregular ice surface of the Ob with their shiny blades. The effort of balancing himself on them is nothing compared to the elation of speeding up and jumping - almost flying in the air.
> 
> He knows he's still young and inexperienced and he'd do everything to become more skilled as quickly as possible but, apparently, he can't strain his immature body too much. He can't risk to hurt himself and not be able to skate anymore but that thought doesn't dissuade him from training by himself every time he's not at school or doing homework.
> 
>  
> 
> _[kid!fic, pre-series, gen, slice of life, original characters, family]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I finally finished this chapter! This story took me more time, because, well, I introduced some original characters, specifically, the other members of Popovich's family. Sadly, I couldn't use every one of my headcanons into this chapter - I will probably make a separate post about Georgij's parents and what his two sisters do, now that they're both adult.  
> This chapter is full of my personal headcanons about Georgij and his childhood - we don't know anything but even if other official news will come out, well, consider this a sort of what if! As usual, sorry for any mistake, this is not beta-ed. Thank you so much for your attention, have fun reading~

_January 1996_

The wooden floor creaks under his feet but the kid barely notices it, since the weighty mewling of a sorrowful cello drowns out even the sound of his own heartbeat. He stops in the doorway of the living room, poking his head in to see what's happening.

His father and his mother are quietly sitting on an old red couch, hugging each other and watching the TV, while his younger sister is playing on a white-and-orange checked carpet with big, colourful cubes. She arranges them in little pyramids, when she sees him, and she waves a chubby hand in his direction, still holding one of the cubes.

He smiles and then "Mom, dad..." he whispers shyly, still checking if he's disturbing his parents' Sunday afternoon's break.

"Yes, _chickie_ , what's up?".

Danilo Popovič's brown eyes gaze at his son's small figure; the way he's keeping his hands behind his back and shifting his weight nervously from one foot to another already tells him his little Georgij has something to ask but he's not sure if he can.

So, he nods encouragingly and his son finally makes a toothless smile, before starting to speak, meticulously articulating every syllable as if he's playing a part.

"Can I go skating? Just for an hour... It's so sunny outside!".

"Have you already finished your homework, Goshen'ka?".

His mother's blue eyes focus on him attentively but her deep voice is almost drowned out by the omnipresent sound of a not-so-distant cello and Georgij hesitates for an instant. Yelena's voice is unusually low for a woman but Danilo's always said it's very melodious and endearing and Georgij agrees with him but he doesn't know why that same, deep timbre suits him so bad. He doesn't quite like how it sounds and his schoolmates seem to agree, since they take every opportunity to mock him for something he can't even control.

"Yes, mom! I've already written the history project for Tuesday, too!" he ends up almost shouting in order to be heard over the loud notes of a now fiercely enraged melody and his mother nods, her messy, long and blonde hair covering his father's blue sweater like a quilt. Georgij smiles proudly but before Yelena can say anything else, his younger sister jumps and tackles him in a rush of laughs and golden locks.

"I wanna come too!" Irina utters enthusiastically, still embracing his waist in a tight grip. Georgij raises his arms and looks at his parents, silently asking "Can she...?". His father is the one who finally answers, "Well, go ask Sashka, if she can come with you two. You're too young to look after _pumpkin_ alone".

Georgij would like to say that, no, he's old enough, _he's already eight_ , but, instead, he "Yes, dad" replies in a considerate tone. Irina doesn't need to be asked twice, she's already running through the hallway, when his brother follows her, heartily laughing. His younger sister is a little hurricane of off-key songs and candies and he finds her quite funny, although sometimes she needs to be contain...

"Sashkaaaa! Open the door!" Irina orders, playfully kicking the study door with her little, insistent feet.

"No, no! Irishka, don't!" Georgij jumps in, grabbing her wrist and moving her away from the door. Irina pouts her lower lip and frowns, protesting that, "I wanted Sashka to open the door!". "Well, that's not the right way!" he tries to scold her but Irina's disappointed expression is so comical, he has to cover his mouth and coff loudly, to not burst out laughing.

"Look... Sashka.. Sashka, can we talk to you? Just a second!" Georgij asks, raising his voice while he knocks on the door, until he finally hears it. In a cracked sigh their older sister "Come in!" answers and the tortured, elaborate weeping of her cello finally ceases.

"Sashka, we want to go skating! Dad said you must accompany us, because we're... hmmm... _too young_ " he grunts, before completely opening the door.

"Do you wanna go out? Today?! But it's sunny!".

Aleksandra's voice is a younger replica's of their mother low timbre but the girl who's sitting behind her cello, in the exact centre of a room filled with books, musical instruments and darkness, looks more like Danilo than a Novosibirsk's woman: thin as a promise and with long, raven black hair, Aleksandra has Georgij's same, big blue eyes but they're now red and puffy, as if he had just stopped crying instead of playing her beloved cello.

"Yes! It's sunny! It's a beautiful day!" Irina persists, slipping through the door to enter the almost dark room and reach the big, noisy instrument her older sister loves to play for hours and hours.

"No, Irishka, for me this is the worst day ever! I won't even survive the next night, so... whatever, I'll go out with you, so you can both remember me as a good sister... at least I will be good at something" Aleksandra exhales in a deep, tortured sigh, before putting her cello's bow back on the table.

"You're very good at playing your cello, too, Sashka," Georgij tries to cheer her, a concerned expression still on his face. He doesn't understand why his older sister is making such a fuss, because a boy dumped her. That Leonid-something must be very stupid for not reciprocating her anymore, so why does she have to suffer so much? She has locked herself in the study for two days straight, coming out only to eat and go to the toilet, that's not even healthy.

"Whatever" Aleksandra grunts and kneels down, gently taking Irina's hands in hers, before explaining, "No, you can't play this with your fingers, you'll break the strings".

It takes no more than ten minutes to gather all of their things and wrap themselves up with coats and scarfs and wool hats because, yes, it's a bright and sunny day but outside it's freezing. Their mother utters even a concerned, "It'll do you good, Sashka. Don't think too much about that silly boy, look after your siblings, instead!" to which Aleksandra replies with the most disgusted expression ever. Irina and Georgij share a look in silence and laugh, still not aware of the extent of their older sister's emotional turmoil, and the three of them are finally ready to go out.

The sun shines so bright, Georgij has to put a hand against his forehead, if he wants to look up at the street. Carefully holding Irina's chubby hand - they both wear soft and colourful mittens - Georgij walks silently beside their older sister, looking at the world surrounding him in awe. The sky is so blue it almost hurts his eyes and the snow is so white under the ruthless caress of the sunlight that all those sharp colours make him feel like living in one of his favourite cartoon. He has always preferred the night, to be honest, and the gentle and subtle presence of the moon high in a dark blue sky: it's more relaxing and he loves to hide in the shadows, guessing when it's the right time to reveal himself, like an actor stepping out on the stage.

"Heck, it's really cold! My hands are freezing!" Aleksandra suddenly mutters, putting hands in her black winter coat's pockets, while Irina hides her squishy, pink cheeks behind a green wool scarf, as if to highlight that statement.

"But you don't have gloves, Sashka! You'll ruin your hands!" Georgij protests in shock, catching a glimpse of his sister's fingers, nails almost turning blue for the cold, that makes crisp snow crunching under the rubber of their boots.

"It's... it's okay, I forgot them but it's not a big deal and it hurts less than... thinking about my broken heart..." she sighs and a single tear escapes her eyes, burning the sensitive skin still exposed to the air. Georgij shakes his head - he doesn't understand why Aleksandra hates herself so much to risk even her thin, skilled fingers, it's not how love works, he's sure of this - and quickly removes his blue mitten from his free hand, using his teeth.

"Oh, Goshen'ka, please, don't! I don't need them, seriously" Aleksandra tries to stop him but her little brother has already shoved his glove into her hands, before she can even finish talking.

"No, take at least one of them. I don't need my hands to skate but you need your hands to play your cello!".

Georgij's making his most serious expression - there're times he can be even more dramatic than her, he seems to like very much to play the part of the tragic hero - and Aleksandra feels so stupid being moved to tears by his simple and stubborn gesture, she finally wears his mitten.

"Well... take my hand, at least, so you won't freeze yours" she utters and Georgij smiles behind his white scarf, while she decides to ignore the nagging feeling that someone from school could see her - gasp! - holding hands with her younger siblings and think she's not cool enough.

The mitten is a bit small for her thin, long fingers but it's not a big deal. The real problem is that her hands are too big for her slender figure: all the parts of her body don't seem to fit together anymore, some are growing too fast - long fingers, eyes too big for a too small face - some others remain childish and awkward - a still flat chest, legs so thin they're crooked.

She doesn't like this unnatural indecision of her body: sometimes she'd like to be adult and look mature like her beautiful, blonde and always busy mother; other times she looks at her younger siblings and wants to turn back time and be an adorable child again - although she has never been round and soft as Irina. She has always looked like a thin and pointy spirit of the forest as Georgij. They're both very lucky: they don't know how it feels to walk on that thin line between childhood and adulthood and she hopes they'll find out later than her. It's horrible and it makes her feel a mess every single moment of the day.

She doesn't talk very much - Irina sings a silly nursery rhyme their father taught her and Georgij is very eager to tell them both about his progresses during the skating lessons - so, she simply nods and keeps on looking at Novosibirsk's white and grey streets, wondering why it's always so sunny when she feels so dead inside.

Their destination isn't very far from their home - it's a fifteen-minute walk - but it's a quiet place, near the forests that surround their city. Georgij doesn't like the crowd, nor he goes skating to meet with his friends - Aleksandra's not even sure her brother has actually made friends with his schoolmates but she knows one thing very well: skating is not a simple hobby for him, he's very serious about it, even if he's only eight years old.

"The ice shines!" Irina enthusiastically screams, before sprinting and jumping like a little bunny. She lands on the slippery surface of that bend of the Ob and ends up falling on her bum, while Georgij scolds her, "No, Irishka, don't run! It's dangerous!".

"Uff, and neither do you or you'll fall and hit your head".

Aleksandra stops him, grabbing him by the wrist and telling him to sit down and wear his skates, first, then she reaches her younger sister and kneels down beside her. Irina's laughing, though, and when Aleksandra asks her if she hurt herself, she replies she'd like to glide on ice again, because "it's so funny, Sashka!".

Georgij observes them and shakes his head, reassured, before opening his backpack to reach for his skates. There're not many people, there, and he's relieved to see none of them is one of his schoolmates. He doesn't go there to chat and play: he was looking forward to wearing his skates again and touching the irregular ice surface of the Ob with their shiny blades. The effort of balancing himself on them is nothing compared to the elation of speeding up and jumping - almost flying in the air.

He knows he's still young and inexperienced and he'd do everything to become more skilled as quickly as possible but, apparently, he can't strain his immature body too much. He can't risk to hurt himself and not be able to skate anymore but that thought doesn't dissuade him from training by himself every time he's not at school or doing homework.

Skating is better than playing with his toys or watching his favourite TV shows, there's something intoxicating in the satisfying feeling of properly landing on the ice, barely scratching it with the edge of his blades; even better, being praised by the audience is more addicting than a bunch of his favourite pralines. He likes when his parents and his sisters applaud him for his prowess or when his coach tells him he's really improved a lot, even more than his rinkmates. He likes to please people, he will train even more, if that means being praised by the adults he respects the most.

"Gosheeen'ka, can you make a jump for me? Pleeeease!".

Irina chirps that request in her high-pitched voice, while Aleksandra's still helping her tying her skates, and he can't resist her cute smile, nor the way she waves her tiny arms to draw his attention. He starts skating slowly, waiting for Aleksandra to turn and watch him, and he savours the feeling of the slippery ice under his feet. It's easy to balance himself, by now, and even if he couldn't train the day before, he's relieved to notice that moving on ice is becoming even more natural than walking. He gradually picks up speed, enjoying the calmness of that place, and when his older sister finally turns and sits on the ice to reach for her backpack, he "Ok, I'll make a toe loop. Look!" utters in an overly-enthusiastic tone. His sisters' eyes are on him by the time he does a 3 turn, then he plants his left toe pick in the ice and vaults in the air. That's the moment he loves the most, that brief instant he leaves the ice and feels light as a feather - even if the coat he's now wearing should make every movement more difficult.

"Tch," he mutters to himself when he lands again, tiny slivers of ice sprayed by his blades like moon dust, "it's only a double".

"So good! I wanna jump like you!" Irina laughs, completely unaware of his brother's personal complaints, and happily claps her hands, before skating toward him. Even Aleksandra smiles a little - for the first time in three days - and, "Yeah, you're really something" adds, while wearing her black skates.

Before her eyes Irina almost falls again but Georgij quickly holds her hands in his - one gloved, the other still bare - and they both laugh. Then they start gliding across the ice together and Georgij moves more slowly to keep pace with Irina - she's reckless and erratic and she seems more interested in making strange dances than actually skating.

Aleksandra doesn't join them but prefers to sit beside their backpacks, frozen by a dark lethargy that still lingers in the centre of her chest and makes her feel numb and lazy. Irina's laughs are high and vibrant like birds' chirping in the morning - she seems possessed by an optimistic spirit Aleksandra hasn't ever know - but Georgij looks even more brilliant, while he strides on ice and shows them everything he has learned.

She can understand him: she feels the same thrill when she can touch the shining, wooden surface of her cello and pluck its strings, before picking her bow and playing the most powerful arrangements.

What she feels in his jumps - what she feels her own style lacks lately - it's a fierce determination that is formidable even for an eight-year-old, full of dreams and ideals. Georgij takes long strides and jumps and Aleksandra notices he's already training, even if it's Sunday; even if he's still playing with Irina. She wonders where their dreams will lead the two of them: when she was still a child, she was sure music was the most wonderful thing in her life and she wouldn't have need anything else. After her first, sad breakup she's not sure of anything anymore: her dedication is "too much", to quote Leonid, and, "you'll end up alone, if you value your cello more than people around you".

She has two best friends but Georgij doesn't have even a single acquaintance from school. He's not particularly talkative around strangers and he's better at expressing himself through his skating than with mere words. She's noticing only now how passionate he can look, when he glides over ice and vaults in the air like a little raven, and it's something completely different from the shy and resigned attitude he shows when he takes off his skates.

"Oookay, but if I'm the princess, who are you, Goshen'ka?".

"I'm the dragon, who protects you from annoying strangers!".

Irina's and Georgij's voices - an exhilarating mix of trebles and basses - disrupt her train of thought and she raises her head, in time for seeing her younger siblings holding hands and making a funny and clumsy dance on ice: Irina's trying to pick up speed but Georgij knows too well how much it hurts to fall on ice and keeps on slowing their pace.

"But dragons are better than princesses!".

"Then you can be the princess of dragons! And I can be the prince and we can both flying!".

Georgij laughs - a low, rumbling laugh he allows himself to make only when strangers aren't there to hear him - and then makes another jump but this time he prepares a little more, before vaulting in the air. Aleksandra and Irina both look at him in awe, while he rotates one, two... He has almost completed the third turn, when he loses balance and falls back, falling on his side with a big, "ouch!" that immediately startles Aleksandra.

"No, no, I'm fine... I only... ow... bumped my elbow a little but... it's okay! It's not broken!" Georgij explains, while his older sister stands up, a concerned expression on her face. Irina, instead, decides this is the right moment to, "Rawr! You fell and now I'll defeat you!" joke, before leaping straight into her brother's arms, slamming him back against the ice.

"Irina, please, he's hurt! Leave him alone!" Aleksandra complains, even if her brother's shaking his head and telling her that,

"No... Uff... I'm okay... Really,", before reaching him in two swift moves.

Georgij can tell his older sister doesn't feel well about her body anymore by the way she moves, when she skates: she's secretive, worries about every move, makes little and brief steps, as if she'd want to go unnoticed. He just doesn't understand why she restrains herself so much but the final result is forced and it's sad, Georgij can almost _hear_ the ice weeping under her indifferent blades.

"You should be more careful, you know?" she says in a low whisper, squatting down in front of him. Irina is on her knees and watches his brother slowly sitting back and checking his arm.

"I know but I need to improve! If I don't become good enough, I won't be able to compete as a professional! I'm already eight years old, I need to train more, if I want to be noticed by a famous coach!".

Georgij looks her straight back in the eye with a stubborn frown and for Aleksandra stares speechless at his blue eyes, not knowing how to reply: this isn't how an average eight-year-old talks, there's something fierce and desperate in his suddenly hoarse voice and even Irina gives him a puzzled look.

"You know that... if you get noticed by a coach, you'll have to move to Moscow or Saint Petersburg, yes? You won't live with us anymore and probably you will go back home only for holidays, uh?".

Irina's eyes widen and "No! You must stay here! With us! I don't want you to go away, Goshen'ka!" she begs, before clutching onto her brother's head, as if she were afraid to see him flying away like a balloon.

Aleksandra regrets her statement, when her little brother's eyes start being filled with tears and he shields his face with his huge, white scarf. She didn't mean to hurt him but she'd really like to know how he can manage to be so sure of succeeding, even if he's so young.

"I don't wanna leave you... I love you and Irishka and dad and mom, but... I love my dreams, too, and I know... I know I'll have to suffer to achieve them... to become a professional skater. I wanna be the best skater in the world".

Georgij murmurs those words with his face half-buried in Irina's green coat but there's not an inch of hesitation in his voice and, before his older sister can think about a reply, he adds with a grave tone: "You wanna become a cello soloist, Sashka. You, too, will travel around the world, one day, so... where's the difference?".

Aleksandra would say that she can wait, she's still young, she'll have to study more and finish school, first: leaving home at eighteen is radically different from moving to another city, miles and miles away from home, at ten or twelve. She'd like to tell him she's afraid of what lies ahead and her fear grows, when she tries to imagine to be like him, so young and so naively sure to make every sacrifice in order to achieve his goals.

Instead, "I'll be older, when I start to... Aren't you afraid to fail, Goshen'ka? Aren't you... Aren't you afraid to wake up one day and find out you have worked too hard but you didn't make it?" she ends up complaining. She'd like to know why she can't be confident anymore - like she was until a year ago. Is this what it means to grow up? Because she'd do everything to shake off that gloomy feeling from her shoulders.

"Goshen'ka is too good to fail, Sahska! He will win everything!" Irina butts in, finally releasing her grip from her brother's head to wave her arms up in the air and physically highlighting the extent of Georgij's skills.

He smiles, blushing brightly because of Irina's genuine praising, and says in the most enthusiastic tone, "I love skating! Why should I fail? And I won't be away forever! When my career will end, I'll come back to Novosibirsk, marry my future fiancée and we will have three beautiful children! And I will become a coach and teach kids to skate beautifully!".

"Oooh, you've already made a lot of plans for your future for being an eight-year-old!" Aleksandra teases him, sitting on the ice, while his brother and his sister stand up again.

"Well, I need to be prepared! It's important!" he adds casually, shaking off slivers of ice from his pants. Aleksandra laughs, because there's something really comical in Georgij's solemn attitude, while Irina grabs his arm again and, "But you won't go away now, uh, Goshen'ka?!" protests, big, brown eyes already full of tears and concern.

"Oh, no, Irishka! It will take at least other two years!".

Her brother's reassuring voice is all she needs to start smiling again - two years seem an awful lot to her - and then they both look at Aleksandra with impatience.

"Well... what's the problem?".

"Come play with us, don't just stand by and watch!" Georgij suddenly utters and he and Irina grab their older sister's wrists, trying to convince her to stand up.

"You're already a dragon prince and a dragon princess, you don't need me!" she protests, but she's already on her feet, blades planted in the ice, when Irina happily screams, "You're big, you can be the queen!".

Aleksandra snorts, trying to look mature, but she smiles shyly, when she finally replies: "Uff, what a big deal, I don't even have a King...".

She's already lazily skating behind her younger siblings and Georgij cuts her off with a serious: "You don't need anyone to be a glorious dragon queen, Sashka!".

Aleksandra doesn't have time to reply, her brother has already moved forward: he's skating again in artful and precise strides, watching carefully at every move he's making, while Irina laughs and tries to catch him. Aleksandra has longer legs but not even her can keep up with him anymore: Georgij feels it in the way his blades glide on ice and the air caresses his face, when he speeds up and sways some more, challenging even the gravity. He feels it every time he jumps and lands - and Irina claps her hands or Aleksandra tells him to do that move again - that he's free to be himself. He's free to talk without using his too low voice, free to strike exaggerated poses and not feel weird: this is the only place that feels like home, because the ice loves him and he loves the ice.

He's still too young to think about all the possible consequences of his choices, nor he can understand Aleksandra's teenage angst, yet. He somehow senses that great difficulties lie ahead, as it happens in the adventures of his favourite fairy tales heroes, but it doesn't matter.

All he knows it's he really, really love skating. There's nothing else that makes his heart beating faster than wearing his skates and starts gliding, like he can almost fly. Georgij feels he can be anyone he wants, when he starts telling his little stories on ice: he couldn't have chosen a better dream to follow. Failing isn't an option: he's sure he will do great things, he has simply to insist, until he won't reach the top. Only then he will finally rest.


End file.
